


Guardian of the Gate

by Jb (sg1jb)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg1jb/pseuds/Jb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroes are made, not born... and a hand never taken is still worth offering</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian of the Gate

**Author's Note:**

> Story takes place shortly after the 2nd season episode 'Need'  
> Previously posted online, June 2002

 

 

1.

I'm dead. I'm definitely dead, and any minute now Beelzebub is gonna come through that doorway and toss my sorry butt right into hell. Look, I know you can't hear anything and you sure as shit can't see anything but this waiting is driving me crazy – and buddy, you're the only game in town right now.

I gotta tell someone all about this – spill my guts – before I burst. Besides, it's probably a good idea to get my story straight before he shows up.

I killed Jackson.

It all started with that weird container SG8 brought back, only of course they weren't really SG8. Well, really, they actually were SG8 but they weren't, but nobody could tell, at least not right off until Jackson clued in but actually that wasn't so good, 'cause that was when the really bad stuff started – but wait, I'm ahead of myself here.

I'll start at the very beginning. You paying attention? Oh, no, of course you're not. I forgot. You're even more dead than I am.

Okay, so, I'm Airman 1st Class Eddie Mason – sort of. Well, at least I know I'll keep the second part; the first part looks like it's not going to last much longer. The second part, that's my name, Eddie Mason. I've been here at the complex for bang on eight months now. I was assigned to Level One, on the surface, as an Airman 1st Class about eight months after I got my second stripe. I spent my first months doing grunt detail, mostly on the main gate and sometimes doing escort duty for NORAD.

You pretty much get to know who's who when you work on the gate. Like, who to let in and out with just a quick glance at the ID and into the vehicle, and who else deserves the once, twice, three times over. They locked the whole place down six times that I know of in the five months I was on the surface gate; nobody in or out. I didn't question the 'nobody in' part, but I gotta admit I was sure was curious about the 'nobody out' bit. You don't ask, though; you just don't ask.

So by the time they sat me down after my first twenty weeks and gave me all those tests and stuff to write – like, personality tests and what-would-you-do-if kind of stuff; there were some pretty complicated scenarios there – I knew that there must be some really far out shit going on in the ground underneath the NORAD facility, and I could recognize and name off a whole bunch of the major players.

Now I know… that I didn't know dick-all.

So anyway, a few weeks after all those tests, there I was standing at a desk outside an elevator halfway down to what's turned out to be purgatory. Doing gate duty again. I still didn't know just exactly what it was that they all did down at the bottom of the second elevator – that's the new gate I was guarding, the top of the second elevator – but there were surveillance cameras everywhere, and klaxons blared and red lights flashed on a pretty regular basis. My job was to guard that gate, man, like it was my sister's virginity and I guess I did a pretty good job because just a couple of weeks ago, just a couple of weeks before my three year anniversary and the time I get to sew on my third stripe, I got hustled down that same elevator myself.

First time I ever heard of someone getting promoted downwards.

_________________________

 

2\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Teal'c is back. Put 'em on, load, rack 'em up. "Everybody ready?"

Carter, Teal'c, and Makepeace give me the grim thumbs up. Weapons trained on the door. Eyes forward. They're ready. The tech in the control room is ready; he's waiting on our word to spring the door. Yep, everybody is ready.

Everybody but me. Now that we're actually going to go in there, I'm suddenly stuck in flash-back mode. The scene from the gateroom's video display is running through my head all over again. How could I have let this happen? I should have known there was something wonky right from the start. I should have dragged Daniel out of there with me, not to mention the security forces as well – that's what I should have done. That damned box should have been isolated right from the get go. Instead, I complacently tagged along after whatever-the-hell-that-was up to the briefing room, and left all those guys alone in there with it.

Left Daniel alone with it and the rest of whatever-the-hell-they-are.

And now we're going to get him out of there, damn it. Too bad it's too late. My heart twists in my chest. This hurts more than I ever thought it could.

Maybe the new kid was wrong … maybe… agh, who am I kidding? We all saw it. But, even if it wasn't fatal, or, or, something – No. Daniel's been in there for far too long now with whatever those SG8 guys have become. If he wasn't already dead when what's-his-name – Mason, right, that's it – when Mason barreled out of there into us, he wouldn't have lasted very long anyway, in the hands of those things.

My arm still hurts like hell from my own encounter. God. I hope – oh crap. Knock it off. Just get on with it. There's nothing to hope for. Get his body out of there. There'll be time for wallowing later.

I just hope…

God. I hope he didn't suffer.

_________________________

 

3\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Okay, anyway, like I was saying…

Gate Duty. I did Gate Duty on the surface, then I did Gate Duty on an elevator door, and then I got to go all the way down, looking forward to bigger and better things.

Only to find out that all there is around here is Gate Duty.

But whoa – what a Gate. Knocked my socks off, blew me away, shriveled up my – ahh, you get the picture; I was pretty impressed.

They've had me buddy up on each shift down here with one or another of the other guys. The patrol duty was a hoot; it didn't take long to learn the place and Beanie and I got along real good. The one who was my keeper yesterday and today – Joe; can't remember his last name why the hell can't I remember that – told me a few pretty bizarre stories about the goings on around here. Stuff like viruses that turn people into animals and alien sex goddesses who try to infest everybody with maggots or something; hell, even something about spaceships coming to blow up the Earth and shit like that. Said I never should of come down here. Said he was just waiting on his wife getting pregnant and then he was gonna use that as a reason to request a transfer back on up the elevator shaft.

Don't much matter; he's dead now. In fact, he's right down there with Doctor Ja…

Shit.

Oh well. It's done now.

You're not looking so good, you know? Hell, sure you don't. Anyway, so I guess the introductions are over – oh hey, wait, I didn't get your name. Let's see; yeah, okay, here it is, on your card here – Webb – hey, Webb, man, how's it hanging?

Okay, well, I guess I ought to get down to the nitty gritty here. So, grab a chair, Webb – oh, right, okay the floor's just fine – and we'll go right back to the very beginning.

_________________________

 

One hour earlier…

4\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Even with all the gloom and doom Joe is spreading around, I'm pretty excited. They pulled me off of the hey-teach-the-new-guy-where-the-toilets-are corridor patrol detail just yesterday to start the buddy thing in the gateroom. I saw SG8 leave and that other team – SG11, I think – returning. Today I'm gonna get to see SG1 head out and SG8 come back. Well, actually, SG8 was supposed to be back before my shift started, but they're late. That's what's got Joe started on his the-world's-gonna-end-any-minute monologue. Seems like there's been some bad stuff go on when teams have been late.

Joe said I should have messed up on all those tests and scenario questions they had me do. Says I was too smart for my own good; that I would have been better off being slow and stupid and crappy with weapons and safe up on the main gate. I don't know what got him so negative, but it's surprising he's talking this way. One of the first things I learned in basic – don't diss the job where anyone can hear you doing it.

Oh hey Here they come. SG1, Colonel O'Neill's team. It's the colonel, the big guy Teal'c, and Captain Carter. I know all the faces from the surface gate and the elevator watch, but it's still a real jolt to see them all geared up like this. I saw Teal'c in the corridors a few times over the last ten days. It was a shock the first time I saw him without his hat on, and when the SF detail captain filled me in on who – or what – he really is, well, hell, I thought I'd puke or something.

What? Joe's muttering something about someone being late. Doesn't sound like he's talking about SG8 again, though.

Someone's just running in... Whoa! It's mild-mannered Dr. Jackson! Look at that. He looks really different wearing all that stuff, almost – well, almost like maybe he could handle himself. Who'd-a thought it.

_________________________

 

5\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
He's late again. If I had a nickel for every time Daniel came in here either five minutes late or on time but not prepared, I'd – okay, to be honest, it's not that bad. I probably wouldn't even have enough to buy the Saturday newspaper. I guess I'm just edgy about SG8 being so overdue.

Here he is now. He knows he's late. I can see that look on his face, the one he gets when he's sure I'm going to notice something he doesn't want me to notice. Hah! Look at that, pack straps flying everywhere and he hasn't even got his sidearm strapped on. Must hurt, having it bang against his thigh like that.

Carter's trying to stifle a grin; she's touching me on the arm as Daniel stops just inside the blast door, turns his back to us, and starts fiddling with the holster straps. He probably thinks I didn't notice him just come in and that he's not ready. That's because, of course, I'm so subtle. Get your hand off my arm, Carter; I don't need you to tell me not to say anything. I almost got my head blown off not long ago with that sarcophagus addiction thing – no way I'm going to provoke him until that weapon is securely strapped in place.

Oh, hang on now, I can't believe I just thought that. That was in bad taste. That wasn't a joking matter... not then, not now, not ever. And I know Daniel would never, ever – Thank God I just had a momentary lapse in my usual brain-mouth non-coordination and didn't say it out loud.

They're dialing it now, and Daniel looks like he's about to have a fit. The strap's all twisted up. I give Carter the nod and she starts on over there. Hey – Wait, look out! Sheesh. That's that new guy, isn't it? The airman from the main gate that they fast-tracked down here? I dunno; you ask me, even with all the potential he shows he's too young and inexperienced to be brought down here. I don't know what they were thinking. Big guy. Carter just bounced off him like he was a brick wall and she was a rubber ball. At least he's got the smarts to help her up and apologize.

Daniel's just glanced over at me. He looks pretty tentative. I don't know, maybe it's not such a good idea for him to be back yet. He did well, really well, going back and straightening out that Shyla mess, but it had to have been difficult for him. Probably needs a bit more time off – some relaxation time – after all that.

"Sir?" Carter's at my shoulder. She looks pretty tentative, too. "I need to go get another holster. The strap connector is broken."

I'm not going to ask why it's her going to do that and not Daniel. She probably offered; no, make that insisted. Carter has a tendency to try to mother Daniel from time to time and lately, what with all the crap he's been through, he's just been giving in to it. "Hurry it up, Captain. They're on the fourth chevron."

No sooner has she gone than the Stargate erupts. What the…? They were only on the fourth – That's not right. I can see some rushing around going on up there in the control room, and Teal'c is already moving toward Daniel. I'd better do the same, get out of everyone's way. Out from under the aim of all these weapons pointed this way. The iris slams closed, but then it starts to open up right away as Davis shouts into the mike that he's got the signal for SG8.

Thank God. Hope they're all okay. They're more than five hours late.

_________________________

 

6\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
Boy, talk about timing. Everyone's been pretty worried about those guys, and I sure wasn't looking forward to going off on a mission with an already on-edge Jack O'Neill. I'm glad they decided to show up before our destination got dialed in. At least now we'll know what the hold up was and as long as everything is okay, and I won't have Jack hounding my backside – acting all over-protective – quite so much on this trip. And if it's bad, well, we probably won't go. Our mission isn't anything that can't wait.

There they are, and they each seem to be in one unscathed piece. What have they got there? It's a box of some kind? It's really big and wow, look at those markings. From the look of the fresco on the side it might be ancient Greek, or maybe Athenian? I've got to get a bit closer to that. I need to ask Major Porter… ah no, too late. Jack's over talking to him, and General Hammond is on the intercom calling for Porter to go straight up to the briefing room. Jack's going with him. They're leaving. Wait – I've gotta know…

"Hey, Porter…" Two giant strides, a grab at his sleeve, and yes! I've got him by the seams; he's mine now. "That box…" Looks like Jack's trying to hold back a denigrating comment which only he would ever think is funny. Well, at least he's making an effort; he hasn't said whatever it is yet. Oh, God. I wonder if that means he's still worried about me? Even if he was he'd never straight out admit it. I hope he doesn't make a bad joke out of it all, say he was afraid I just might flip out and shoot his head off, or something.

"It's nothing. The container is empty. The natives on P5Y870 gave it to us when we were leaving. It's a gift for our leader. It's not for you. Not even worth looking at." Porter shrugs and heads off with Jack. Me? I'm heading off to that box.

"Daniel…" There's a warning in Jack's voice. "Just stay put. And don't fall into that thing. We'll be heading out as soon as I come back down. Teal'c, go get Carter, okay?"

Then he's gone, Teal'c heads out as well, and the blast doors slide shut behind them. It's me, an incredibly beautiful inscribed and painted box roughly the size of a filing cabinet – tipped horizontally – a bunch of guards, and the other three members of SG8. Wonder why they're still here? They have got to be exhausted after such a long mission; you'd think they'd be wanting to head out of here.

Wow. The closer I get to that thing the more interesting it looks. It's definitely of ancient Greek origin. Look at those symbols! Gotta get down there right next to it… geez, this ramp is hard on the knees. Okay, now, I think I can make out some of this. The symbols are pretty worn, but it sure looks like an offshoot of early Greek with a smattering of what might be ancient Latin …

There's a set of boots right under my nose. "Hey, guys. How was it? Everyone was pretty worried about you. That's some gift you got there. Were there inscriptions and frescos like this anywhere else there? It would be great if you could just tell me… oh, I guess you're supposed to get over to the infirmary, but… oh, wow look at this… "

Ohh, yes, now that I'm kneeling right down here next to it, I can see I'm right. A mixture of ancient Greek corrupted with some… wait… what does that say? Something about… troubles, or troubling… honour – uh, no, I think it's dishonour… spirits of, ummm… possessed of despair-something…

Or something.

"It's empty. Not worth looking at." His hand is on my shoulder and the grip is pretty firm. Actually, no, it's not just firm. It's painful. I look up at him quickly and whoa what-the-hell-is-that? His face – No. It's okay. It's just Robinson. I must have imagined it.

I try twisting away from his grip. "Uhh, could you please... that feels..." He just tightens his hand and his fingers are really digging in now. Getting a bit alarmed, here. It feels like his fingers are trying to burrow right through to the opposite side of my shoulder. Ouch.

"It's not for you. It's not worth looking at."

Ookay, yeahh... and just as I'm realizing I've heard that said a few times now, I also realize his voice is, well, different than it should be. The inflection is off, all flat; it's not really a true monotone but...? I think maybe something bad is happening here. I can't stand up; he's pushing down too hard on my shoulder. It feels like a thousand pounds of pressure is about to push my shoulder right down through my chest and out my, uhh… "Robinson, could you just let go… let go of me…"

My words are all but lost in the announcement that comes from the control room, telling the security guys to stand down for twenty. They'll leave the embarkation room now. Twenty minutes. Okay, I'm thinking maybe that's another bad thing. Major ouch going on here. There's something definitely not right, and a lot of really bad stuff can happen in twenty minutes.

I get my feet underneath me and in one big heave use every ounce of strength in my thighs to push up against his weight, but it's like trying to dislodge concrete and all that happens is I'm thrown off balance. He shoves back and that's all she wrote; I'm falling heavily to one side, hitting my mouth and chin on the latch of the box and I can feel and taste the blood start to flow.

_________________________

 

7\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
"We're stood down, Mason. Let's go." Joe's looking to leave, but I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, I know I'm just learning how things work around here and I don't know any of these guys, but it sure looks to me like that little bit of contact over there isn't completely innocent. The way that guy has his hand on Dr. Jackson's shoulder…

Jackson hasn't complained yet. In fact, he's stopped the chatter and isn't saying anything at all right now, but I can see by the way the vest is all scrunched up that it's not exactly a love pat. Oh, there… now it looks like he's complaining. He's obviously not liking it. Looks like he's wanting to get up, but the big guy isn't letting him.

"Joe, wait." He gives me an impatient look and I just point over to where Jackson is kneeling on the ramp staring up at the big guy from SG8.

"Forget it. Not our business. We're stood down now. Look…" he directs my attention to where the sergeant is standing at the blast door. "If he's not worried neither am I. Let's go. They won't open the door until we're all over there and I don't want anyone bitching at me about your rubber-necking."

But – I don't think this is right. Joe's giving me a little push toward the door now. I don't think I've ever worked with someone so jaded before. I glance back once more, just in time to see Jackson twist around and try real hard to stand up, but the big guy is having none of it. Okay, so now I know this isn't a friendly chat they're having, and I'm damned if I'm gonna just walk outta here without knowing how this is gonna end. I can't do anything about it without being told first, seeing as I'm just a lowly airman here, but I sure can hang around just in case. In case of exactly what, I dunno.

Holy shit! He just pushed him over onto the sharp edge of the fastener on that box-thing. Jackson's bleeding. I hear Sergeant Harris call out, asking what's going on there. Jackson's getting up. He's waving at the sergeant, but I can't tell if he's waving him over or waving him off. The sergeant hasn't moved, though, so I guess Joe is right. Maybe it's not my place to… wait... what the hell? One of the other guys from SG8 just grabbed Jackson around the neck and yelled at him. Something about, don't touch it, and it's not for him? The sergeant is moving fast, on his way over there now. Good thing, because it looks like that guy is about to punch Jackson into tomorrow. There's the wind up… there's the swing… and there's the Sarge. He's got the guy by the arm and that punch never did get to it's target, but the other guy still isn't letting go. Everybody else is watching now. Even Joe is starting to look interested; he pokes me in the arm and we move closer.

"I'm not sure what this is all about, Sir…but…" Hell, it takes me a minute to clue in, but it's Jackson the Sarge is calling 'Sir', not the SG8 guy.

Jackson's voice is kinda croaky, but surprisingly steady for someone in the process of being throttled. "I'm okay, Sergeant Harris. I think. Just, ah, wait a minute." He talks to the big abusive guy. "I'd like you to let go, okay? Who's it for, then?"

"It's for the leader. It's empty. Not worth looking at."

Sarge has a good grip of the guy's wrist and is carefully trying to force the guy to let go of Jackson. He bends back the pinkie finger, the hand slowly comes off Jackson's neck, and I can see red marks there. Dr. Jackson's gonna be bruised for sure. The other two SG8 guys are showing signs of moving. They're shifting their weight real slow, but it looks to me like they're thinking seriously about heading down the ramp toward me and Joe. The mood in here is winding up pretty tight now. This is just so cool; I feel like I've got an 'in' on the best seats in the house for the latest mystery-adventure-thriller. I nudge Joe and tip my head in their direction and he gives me a sour look, kinda like he's thinking yeah right, here we go, another-the-world's-gonna-end-again moment.

"Who's the leader?" Jackson looks like he can't decide whether to rub at his neck or his shoulder. He finds a way to do both at the same time, using both hands, but I can see that all his real attention is on the big guy. "Maybe I'm the leader? Maybe it is for me…"

The big guy hasn't answered and he's looking at Jackson real strange. Jackson's got a big frown on his face, but now he's staring straight into the guy's eyes and speaking really slow and quiet-like. "I'm the leader. I'm the insulted leader. How dare you prevent me from receiving my gift."

The guy's shaking more than just a little bit and his eyes are darting all over the place; he's starting to look almost – I don't know; kind of like a freshly pithed frog or something. Jackson turns his head a bit and mumbles something to the Sarge. The sergeant nods and motions toward one of the guys, and…

Holy shit! All hell is breaking loose…

_________________________

 

8\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
P3Y665. That's it.

Okay, so answer me this. Why is it just when my body is most under assault and my brain cells are starved for oxygen that I have my moments of greatest clarity? Like when Sam and Jack were stranded in the Antarctic… just as I was so exhausted that I didn't know if I could go on anymore, suffering from the biggest head pain in the world, a little wobble of water in a glass was the catalyst for a huge leap of intuition. Then there was P2A509. That was the brainstorm I got when I was asphyxiating on Hadante courtesy of that big smelly guy.

And now here I am with my adam's apple being steadily forced into an unwilling introduction to my cervical spine... and suddenly I'm pretty sure I know what that box is. And what SG8 isn't. SG8. I mean, that's what they isn… aren't. They aren't really SG8, at least not any more. It was on P3Y665, what, a couple of months ago, that we found remnants of a transplanted early Greek culture and written records of the events leading up to the eventual destruction of their whole civilization. Including the story of a treasonous king put to death, and a virgin queen and her attendant entombed for all time, kind of like our Antigone. Only in this case no one had the luxury of suicide like Antigone did. And in this case, the subjects of the myth apparently were not just your typical flesh-and-blood flesh and blood. I didn't have anything solid to base my opinion on at the time, but I really didn't think it was simply a myth and I guess, now, it's looking like maybe I was right. I think I know what that box is. And I really think we are in whole lot of trouble.

A part of me is shocked and going off onto a tangent, even now railing against the unfairness of it all… starting to grieve on behalf of the families of these guys. It's a good thing the other part of me, the part that's getting the life choked out of it, is well focused on the here and now. It's an equally good thing Sergeant Harris is so strong. Thank God. Ouch. Everything hurts.

"Who's the leader?" They keep saying it's for the leader. Why? I wish I could remember the whole story, not just snatches of it. Rulers of the damned, takers of souls, or something to do with powerful souls or... something... I think it read? A king and his first advisor, feared greatly by their own people. Killed. And then his new queen... right, Sylestria. That was her name. Then, someone, something, rising once more. Vengeful spirits, seeking... something? No, not spirits; I don't believe in ghosts. Whatever they are, if they're out here affecting SG8, then what's left in the box? We really need to get control of that box.

"Maybe I'm the leader? Maybe it is for me…" Oh, he doesn't like that. Looking pretty worried now. I wonder if he – or, actually, according to the recorded not-myth, she – just might surrender that box peacefully if I…

"I'm the leader. I'm the insulted leader. How dare you prevent me from receiving my gift."

Oops. Seems that was a pretty provocative thing to say. Apoplexy is a mild word for this reaction; he looks like smoke just might start coming out his… oh, wait. He said, for the leader. Oh, stupid me. The seekers of power, takers of souls... of the soul of the king, who didn't survive the experience, and then of the queen in particular. Possession. SG8 has been possessed with, ah, not ghosts, but... whatever… okay, I knew that. They're looking for the leader. I knew that too. Oh boy, I am a first class idiot. Oh Sergeant? A little help here, I think? We gotta shut the 'gate room down tight, nobody in or out. I flap a hand at him, and I can see he's understanding me.

I'm pretty sure I know what was supposed to happen here. And oh shit, I just told them I was the leader. Stupid. Really, really, stupid. Hey, what the hell is this? The ramp is vibrating, but the Stargate isn't active…

Whaa… what the hell…

_________________________

 

9\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Porter's not very up front about why they're so late. He's a good man, one of the best at this job and usually he's got a great attitude. Right now though, he seems kind of, not all here. The General has asked him three times now why they didn't open the 'gate and report their delay. The answer isn't coming. Porter just keeps avoiding the question, basically repeating the same request over and over; he wants the General to go down and have a look at that box.

Hammond looks uneasy about all this. He just gave the order for the security team in the gateroom to stand down, which means SG1 isn't going anywhere right soon. Crap. I hate it when this happens. May as well unstrap everything, shuck my vest and the rest of my gear. The floor in the corner over here is as handy a place as any to dump it. Hammond doesn't even give me the expected frown as my gear ends up in a heap in his conference room. So, yep, he's pretty worried.

Sam and Teal'c should be back in the gateroom anytime now, if they aren't already there and waiting. That's okay. Daniel will tell them about the stand down, provided he can peel his eyeballs off the box long enough to even realize they're there. It's obvious the General isn't planning on having that thing relocated until he gets some answers out of Porter. We don't know what that thing is... but, I guess if he's concerned about it, leaving it in the gateroom for the time being is probably the best thing to do.

I'm curious about what went on with SG8 that put them so many hours off schedule, but I'm getting annoyed too. I'm thinking the General ought to just clear that monstrosity off the ramp and let us get on with our mission. Not that Daniel would like that much. No doubt he's down there with his face and hands pressed up against the goddamned box, passionately draping himself all over it. Practically making love to it. Hell, each to his own, I guess. As far as getting where you wanna go, it's a lot cheaper than springing for dinner and a movie, and more of a sure thing. Can't be quite as satisfying, though. Can it?

"Major Porter! I gave you a direct order, and I expect you to follow it, not me." What's this? Hammond is moving toward his office. Porter's following him and the General's using that 'not-another-word-mister' voice I'm so used to hearing directed at myself. I straighten up from where I'm leaning against the wall. My movement seems to catch Hammond's attention, and his eyes lock with my own. The look leaves nothing to the imagination; he's pissed, but more than that he's worried and his message is clear. There's something not right, and he wants me to find out just what the hell is going on.

Whoa! Hey – I'm moving across the room as fast as I can. I get there just in time to intercept Porter's hand as it snakes out toward Hammond. Porter's face is bright red, his body tense. His hand is cold in my own. Ice cold. But it's his eyes that stop me dead in my tracks. They're… God, like, flat out dead. There's nothing there, no animation, nothing. The concrete wall in front of us has more life in it than those eyes. Hammond's eyes are a distinct contrast, all narrowed and sparking and flitting back and forth from me to Porter. He's getting more concerned by the second and I can't say I blame him.

Porter's trying to yank his hand out from mine, but something tells me that wouldn't be a good thing to have happen. I tighten my grip, and those flat eyes are joined with an equally flat voice. Funny, he was talking normally – well, at least, in a normal tone of voice – a minute ago. "The Leader must receive the gift. These questions are not important. Only the gift is important. It is for the Leader." He gives his hand a twist, but I'm not going to let go. No sir-ee-bob.

Hammond motions for the ever-present guard at the stairwell to come forward and just as I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, moving toward us… I feel it. It's like my own hand has suddenly been dipped in dry ice. It's cold, it's quick, it runs up into my forearm, and it hurts like hell. Worse than that, I know without a shadow of a doubt that it's alien. He's alien.

I couldn't let go of him now even if I wanted to. There's this torment in my forearm that completely defies description and my hand feels like a block of ice. No way will it respond to anything I tell it to do. My knees won't either; I can feel them starting to give out on me. As I grope with my free hand for the wall, for the General, for Porter, for anything to support me, I hear my own gasp of pain and Hammond shouting both at Porter and for any other security forces within hearing distance. I get a vague impression of two bodies moving quickly toward us. Porter's face turns on me and in the instant before the SF guards rip him away it feels like my soul is being sucked out of me and right into him through those blank dead eyes.

They wrench Porter away and my hand comes free, and there's a huge howl from Porter – like what I imagine a screaming banshee might sound like if it actually existed. Ah, God… it feels like my hand's been torn right off. I slam painfully down onto my knees. Great. Concrete floors. As if that beat-up old knee wasn't chronically sore enough already. They're struggling, three guys all flailing and grunting and swearing above me. The... thing... masquerading as Porter is screaming blue murder – that same old shit about the leader – and Hammond is pulling me off to one side.

If that's not Porter – and it sure as hell isn't – then what about the rest of SG8? Why was Porter do damned anxious for Hammond to go back down to the gateroom? Whoa-Ho. Back down there, Porter said the box was a gift for the leader. I'm getting the feeling Hammond shouldn't go anywhere near that thing. The box is bad news. The box… oh holy goddamn-hell. Daniel. Daniel is down there with it right now, likely drooling all over it. I just hope that whatever it's meant to be or to do, it isn't activated by body fluids.

They have him halfway under control now, pushed up against the wall. Porter's face is all twisted up with rage, made even uglier by those eyes that are about as lively as a couple of lumps of coal. Ugh. It's not a look I'd take to the local bar and grill, that's for sure. But he's not the only one looking less than happy. Both of the guards are staring at him with surprised looks on their faces. No – not surprise. More like budding panic. Shit. I pull against Hammond and he helps me to climb to my feet. My knee hurts and my hand and arm still feel like they've been dipped in liquid nitrogen, but I don't have anytime to think about that. Because both guards are starting to quake with what is either piss-in-your-pants-fear or intense pain, and they're gonna let go of him any second.

This is a goddamn alien. It's not Porter. It's not human. I repeat that to myself as many times as I can as I lunge forward toward them, my eyes locked on the sidearm of the guard closest to me. I get there just as both guards, with pitifully anguished cries – ah, did I sound that bad? – lose their grip on Porter – no, not Porter, it's a goddamned alien – and start to sink to the ground. He, It, sees what I'm up to and lunges at me, screaming, hands thrust out at me like claws. Hammond is yelling at me to "Look out!" and all I can think about that is, shit, is that redundant, or what? But I've got the gun now and I bring it up quickly and scream at him to stop…

He won't stop. It's-not-Porter-it's-not-really-him... I fire point blank at his chest.

I don't intend to, but I'm letting loose with half the clip. Can't help it. Can't stop. The noise of the gun's discharge is lost under the deep howl that more than fills the room and scares the already scared bejesus outta me. It erupts just as the bullets enter him, ripping a bunch of holes dead centre in his chest, driving his body back into the wall behind him. It's an effort to leave off the trigger even though he's dead, he's gotta be, with half his chest blown away like that; if not instantly then he will be in another couple of seconds… and sure enough the body is slowly collapsing, sliding down the wall leaving a streak of blood and gore behind. But the sound is still here. It's huge, reverberating off the walls and so deafeningly loud that I reflexively bring my hands up to my ears, gun and all. I can feel the air in the room being compressed, stretched out like an elastic band. It's gonna snap, and I don't think any of us will like it much when it does.

Those dull eyes, no more and no less lifeless now than they looked before he was well and truly dead, are still open and… Oh, crap. That's where this godawful bone-chilling howling is coming from! The only thing coming out of his mouth is blood. Hang on… I think the noise is turning into words. Long, slow, deep… and seeming plenty loud enough to go right through the concrete walls and floor. And the vibration – shit. The conference table is shaking and the chairs are skittering around on their wheels. I'm pretty sure it's words... maybe even English. It's taking me a minute but I feel like if I really concentrate maybe I can make them out.

The elastic band snaps. Feels like all the air in the room is being sucked away toward the body and released back again. The conference room window just shattered. I can't hear it because of the thunderous howl, but I see it happen and my mind is filling in the missing noise. There's pressure against my chest and just as I realize my feet aren't on the floor anymore I feel the impact… and I'm in a smashed heap against the wall under the window, all tangled in chairs and God knows what else. My lower back feels like something just punched right through it. Things are a bit blurry around the edges here. Don't feel too good.

Oh God – I understand it now, I can make out what it's saying. Six words. Oh, shit. And then one word of my own making, one name, is blasting through my mind as everything starts going dim…

Daniel.

_________________________

 

10\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
Augh, God! Okay. Right. Stupid move number two, Jackson. That really hurts. I guess it's natural to have turned around to look to where that horrible noise seemed to be coming from, but to stay like that when the window blew out, standing straight and tall, staring with my mouth hanging open – well, pretty much the typical Jackson generic response to a sudden event, I guess. Damn. Duck, hit the dirt, grab some floor… uh huh. Hello, how do you do, nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson, PhD., archaeology, linguistics. But you can just call me Dr. Dumbass.

There's a big chunk of glass in my shoulder. I don't need a doctorate to know I'd better leave it alone. God, it's really starting to burn, though. Whoa. Blood. My arm feels… all wrong. Bad, that's bad. Okay, okay – if I want to stay upright and hold onto my cookies, just don't look at it. And I don't even want to think about that stinging and wetness on my face. Almost can't think at all anyway. That damn noise is huge. It might be words, but what with that howling and the klaxon blaring now, the lights flashing and all, not to mention the pain – well, a bit of sensory overload going on here.

All right. Deep breaths. Just a bit of a cut. Not all that bad. Look away, try not to think about it. Janet will make short work of it later; it'll be okay. Look somewhere else, at the – Oh God, no. Ohhh. Bad place to look. Harris. He was right next to me, I was talking to him just a second… Oh God. Can't breath. Can't look at it but can't look away. The glass… he was right here, he was helping me… Oh boy. Feeling kinda dizzy. The roar is louder, if anything, but there's a shrill ringing in my ears that's starting to compete with it for pure shock value. Feels like my head's going to explode.

Arrh. What's he doing? God… Robinson, enough, let go of my arm. I, I can't – No, please, let go. The, the, the… the box; he's going to open the box. No! Oh God, no. Gee, I'd love to stop him, I really would, but I'm having trouble simply staying on my feet. He's yanking on my arm and hauling me over to right next to it and I think I'm going to puke any second now. The Dr. Dumbass Stupid Move Number One of the day is quite literally about to haunt me. This can't be happening. This can't happen. Please. Oh, please…

Bad smell... ohh, very very bad. Gonna gag on it.

Oh, God oh God I can see... Ah! It's cold. Cold. Oh God.

"I'm not the leader! I'm not! It's not me!" Talk about cowardly… but… oh, hell, look at that thing! I know my mouth is open, I can feel the strain on my throat from screaming, but I don't hear anything coming out. Please, oh lord please. Fetid. Cold. Ice cold, and oh hell it's so big so huge! Towering over me. It doesn't believe me…

Oh, wait a minute. Wait just a minute. Shut up. Stop and think. Think it through. Think about what it wants, what it will do. It'll take me but when it realizes I lied, it will – oh, I can't let that happen. It'll go through this place like wildfire until it finds who it wants. I remember the rest of the myth now and there's only one way to stop it for good, to kill it. God, it's right here, I can feel it beginning. Ahh it hurts!

It's too late for me but maybe I can prevent it from moving on. God I'm so scared. It's hurting.

I, I can see through it… there's an indistinct blur of people back there, behind it. They have to stop it but, not – just – yet… Wait, wait… I think I'm telling them; I feel the scream, the words, but I still can't hear myself. Oh hell, I hope I'm actually yelling out loud and not just in my mind. I hope they heard me.

Silence descends like an arctic chill but I think it's just because my mind is frozen in place. And my voice? Can't hear myself anymore. Afraid. Hurts bad. There's that big kid. New guy from off the Norad gate. Built like a semi; like Teal'c. He's staring at me. Oh please, hear me… hear me... do it… please. Come on, kid, understand what has to happen; you have to do it. No, wait. Wait. I take it back. Please don't do it, I don't want to die – Shit! Stop, don't wuss out here, Jackson. You're toast either way. It has to be done, he's gotta do it.

That thing is thinning out and rising some and it's so cold. I barely catch the sudden flash of movement and… Ah damn! Feels like my whole body is seizing up. Ohh, it's here now and there's no turning back. Can't breath… lungs frozen… have to find a way, have to, have to; I have to tell him. Now. It's time. Now! Agh. Can't stand this… hurts! I'm not strong enough. Yes. Yes I am… I am; I can do it…

With everything I have in me I scream it, "Now! Do it now!"… but I still don't know if it's only in my mind that I hear it.

I can see more clearly. It's not in the way anymore, it's… oh God it's… Oh no no no. I feel myself, what makes me, me, being ripped away. Voices, not in my head, but... me, my own voice... my... self... ripped away. Hurts! Like torture. So much pain. But I can't fight it if this is going to work. Feel strange... drifting away from myself, lost in amongst the voices... got to hang on, stay me, but... stop fighting it. Okay, okay… but in a second, in just one more second, because I need to know that he's really going to do it before I let go.

So incredibly cold. I'll let go but please, please don't let it be for nothing. I think I'm talking out loud but I'm not sure. Moving away. Leaving... where am I going? No! Stay me! Just for a few more seconds, that's all... look at him, stare at him and maybe I'll be able to tell – he's nodding at me. Oh thankyouGod. He hears me. He understands. He's going to... please don't… no, do…

Sha're, I'm terrified. I need you. I love you. Ah, it hurts. Hurts so bad.

Jack, Sam, Teal'c – find her. Save her.

Sha're. Please… please don't forget. Never forget…

Cold. So cold.

_________________________

 

11\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Holy fucking hell… he's dead. One minute he's standing there next to Jackson and the next he's, he's… not. He's gone – mostly. God. I might just puke. That's some pretty huge hunks of window that hit him. Must not be tempered glass. Got chunks of it, not zillions of tiny crumbly little bits. Gotta be laminated. Yeah. What a joke. It might slow down a bullet but it'll kill you by slicing your… Oh, God. I am… I'm gonna barf.

Jackson's hurt. Glass, a piece the size of my hand; I can see it sticking out of his shoulder. He looks shocky but he's still on his feet. I don't know how. If that was me I'd probably be in full let's-get-horizontal mode.

Okay, so maybe Joe is onto something here after all. It sure as hell looks and sounds like the world's gonna end any second. So much blood and, other, stuff. What with that ungodly racket I didn't even hear the glass go… just suddenly got rained on. Lucky thing for us it blew out as hard as it did, or we'd of been hit with the big shards like the guys who are standing further toward the ramp than me and Joe. Two of the other guys – the two still standing – are rushing to help those who are hurt but somehow I think that's not the worst of our problems here. Those SG8 guys are still with us, and it looks like everyone's pretty much forgotten about them for the minute. And I don't like the way they're moving back up the ramp toward Jackson, all slow and evil-like – their eyes all strange and heads tilted weird like that and what the hell are they doing…

Shit, they're listening. To that roaring noise? Yeah… wait… it sounds like something – hang on. It's words, I think. 'Re'… and an 'ss' noise… something… 'leader'… and the next part's real clear. The next part is, "Take the other". Take the other what?

Joe! What the hell is he doing? Joe's running out into the middle of the room and waving his arms around and he's screaming up at those guys behind the first story window, the one that's still intact. The control room. Right. New-guy-tour fact number twenty-eight. That's the control room. Everybody in there looks like they've just been hit with stun guns, all flapping and zipping and zapping around in a panic. What's Joe saying? Something about the blast doors? Can't hardly hear anything over that howl. Someone else is moving fast now too, up the ramp. Wait… hell, it's that big SG8 guy and he's diving at that box thing.

The other two SG8 hoods are, oh shit, the other two are running after Joe. Just what the fuck is going on here! What am I supposed to do? What do I do? I don't like that guy being so close to Jackson but I think I gotta go help Joe. Somehow I don't think those guys want to hug him for joy. I haven't gone two steps, though, before I see Joe whirl around and turn his weapon on those two and I can see he's shouting something at them. They lurch to a stop, facing him. He's still hollering, but he's directing it up toward the window again and he's waving one hand like crazy, first at the doors and then pointing up to the window that blew out.

Oh shit. That I do hear. Yelling. Sounds like something that might come out of a man who just figured out what's up with his wife and his best friend. Not a happy sound. It's coming from behind me. I whirl around to see the SG8 guy has a death grip on Jackson's arm. He's hauled Jackson over to that big box on the ramp and is opening the lid. Jackson is struggling. Looks like he's a hair away from totally freaking out. He's the one making that noise – yelling something.

I can't make it out, can't hear the exact words over the howling. He really wants to be understood though… he's yelling so hard the veins in his neck look like they're gonna pop any second. Shit. Blood on the ramp There's blood dripping from his hand. It's running down his arm from his shoulder and dripping onto the ramp. I'm closest. Everyone else who hasn't got some goddamn dagger of glass sticking into some important body part is doing something else somewhere else – I don't know what to do! Wait. Joe. I gotta check with Joe, he needs help too. He'll tell me what I'm supposed to do here. No, that's stupid, Mason. What are you doing… waiting for permission? Just get moving… get over there and help Jackson… fuck, my legs aren't listening…

Movement, to my right. I snap my head around to see the blast door coming down over the what-used-to-be-a-window, followed by one sliding down to cover the control room. Those two guys in front of Joe suddenly start to jitterbug and jump around. They jitter themselves around and start back to the ramp, aiming for where the box is, but before I can even move Joe is on them. The only other guys still on their feet are there too and the three of them are herding the two SG8 screamin'-meemies over toward the far corner of the room. Joe's okay. Great. Doesn't do much to settle the jackhammer in my chest though.

My heart is in my throat and I'm terminally confused. There's so fucking much going on. That noise is driving me off the deep end. I don't know what to do, where to go. Go to Jackson... yeah. So why aren't I moving? Damn! Like a fucking deer in headlights. Don't deserve any new stripes. Move, moron... move!  
  
Shit! What? That horrible noise just shut off so suddenly that the relative silence is a jolt. Joe just jumped about five feet straight up. It's gone, all except the roaring in my head. I can't hear Jackson hollering any more either. I hope that's not because… I'm almost afraid to look over there but I know I have to.

Painful cold, as icy as a blast of sub-zero wind against my face. With it there's a stench worse than anything I've ever breathed in before, ever. I don't know what it is and I can only guess at where it came from, but I'm sure as hell gonna give it my full attention. No way I want something that feels and smells that dead to be coming up on me from the wrong direction. That box is wide open and the creepy guy has moved aside. I've got this great view of Dr. Jackson. Wish I didn't, because what I'm seeing is seriously scaring the shit out of me. He's not alone there… there's something there with him…

No. I'm wrong. There's nothing. I thought I saw something, but… Jackson is sure looking like he sees something, though. And like he's feeling something. Something not nice. He's quiet but his eyes are bugging out and he looks like he's in pain. Ah well sure he is, you moron, he's got this big slab of laminated…

No, wait… what the hell? There is something there. Huh? No. No, there's nothing; it's my imagination. Wait! There… right there. I can see right through it, that's why it looks like it's there one second and gone the next. I can tell it's there because all around the edge of it the room and the air looks weird… warped, sort of, and kinda dingy grey. It's, it's growing… or something…

It's hovering. I can get a handle of the size and shape of it from how things look through the edges; it's tall and wide and fucking huge. It's right in front of Jackson. I can see him through it, looking a bit distorted and washed out. The edges are moving, flowing slow like molasses or something, toward each other; it's getting taller and thinning out somehow and it's moving up and over… Shit. There's the leading edge, the tip of it, hanging there above Jackson's head.

I can't move. Too fucking scared to even move. But it's moving now… it looks like it's swooping down onto – no, into Jackson oh Christ oh my God – he's screaming. He's staggering and I can see his throat working and his mouth moving and he's gotta be screaming but I can't hear him; why can't I hear him?

Great… now my legs decide to work. My head and guts are shrieking at me to run like hell in the opposite direction but my feet are taking me closer. What are they, fucking retarded? This is some really bad shit here. Joe, get your butt over here, man! The closer I get the colder it is. Ice cold. Stabbing cold. The SG8 guy… he sees me moving to the ramp. Shit. Okay, he's not coming this way. He's moving closer to Jackson – Why? Never mind. Never mind him. Don't look away, don't lose sight of it. Just lock the eyeballs on Jackson and that whatever-the-hell-it-is. Shit, Joe, where the hell are you get over here… he's not answering me. Never mind. It's that thing that's important. It's still flowing over, into, Jackson. It's going about it slow and his arms are jerking around and I am so fucking scared it feels like my whole body's gonna do an exact imitation any second now.

Jackson… he sees me coming. He's looking right at me, shaking his head back and forth a bit. His eyes are locked with mine and there's something there – a message? He stops the 'no way' head shake and his mouth is moving but there's no words coming out. Just some blood – must be from falling onto that damn hinge before. Ah shit. I want to puke up so bad. I'm majorly pissing terrified here. But it's Jackson who's really suffering and he's trying to tell me something and I have to figure out what it is. I have to.

Oh shit shit shit! In a blur, with a sharp movement and a quick gust of frigid stinking air, that thing squeezes what's left of itself together into a long spiral and just sucks right into him. It's moving the rest of itself inside him almost faster than I can follow with my eyes and his body spasms – and if I thought he looked like he was in more pain than any person could ever stand before, well, I was being typically fucking naive – and he suddenly calls out and this time I can hear him... yeah, the whole base could probably hear that.

"Now! Do it now!" It comes out in an agonized scream and it's like an order and a prayer and a plea all mixed up together. Holy shit, do what, now? What? What does he want? What am I supposed to do? Oh Jesus, it's killing him I just know it is, and here I am completely clueless.

Joe! Help! Goddamn it, Joe, answer me... oh, please... I want to see what's up with Joe – I need him, I'm just the know-nuthin' new guy for Christ sake – but I can't. I'm, like, pinned by Jackson. He's staring at me so intently I can't look away. I can see his eyes really clearly. They're blue, a real deep blue like my brother's eyes were. Lady-killer-eyes, my bro had, Mom used to say when my brother was still alive, because the s.o.b. always had girls crawling all over him mooning about his – Oh crap. Clear blue eyes. I can see his eyes clear as anything. Because that thing isn't in the way any more… because, oh, oh I feel so sick… because it's all in him now.

He nods at me. A little up and down of his head and… oh fuck. I get it. Understanding comes crashing down and even as my knees just about give out, I feel my own head nodding. What the hell am I doing? How can I agree to that? No way, no fucking way, no way... noway noway noway. But his look is urgent and I know – I can feel it – he's certain about it; he's telling me without words it's okay, that it's the right and only thing to do.

I'm just the scared spitless new guy and what the hell do I know except that this feels like the end of the Earth, all right. I'm terrified and he's looking right at me, pleading with me, insisting, ordering me. Suddenly his face contorts and his body jerks repeatedly. His strangled scream of agony sends me into a panic and rips my guts right out through the end of my dick – a gush of warm-wet tells me I just pissed myself and I'm crying as I bring my weapon up and open fire from not more than ten feet away.

I feel like I'm dying right along with him.

_________________________

 

12\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Damn, that's loud. The only thing that's out-shouting that godawful racket is my headache. Oh no, hang on, that's not all. There's the sharp pain in my arm and my lower back, too. Whaa… wait. Now I remember where I am and what's going on. No, scratch the last part of that. I have no idea what's going on. Ah. A caster. I dig it out from under me and pretty much immediately the noise in my back settles from an insistent shriek to a dull roar. I can move my legs okay. That's reassuring. So quit lollygagging around doing nothing. Move those legs and get up.

There's hands on me, checking me out. It's Hammond. He's got a gash on his forehead and he looks like maybe he isn't feeling too good. He's talking to me, but… Geez. Someone really needs to turn that racket off. What's he saying? Something about SG8, about the gateroom?

SG8? Oh Christ… Porter. Black, cold, dead eyes. The gateroom. A honking big box full of trouble. Oh, holy shit – Daniel's in the gateroom. And maybe the rest of my team too. I'm up like a flash and it feels like it was a hell of a lot more than just a caster that whumped me in the back. For a second, it takes my breath away and my stomach rolls over. No time for this. Hammond is tugging at my arm, talking in my ear. I can just about make him out. I duck my head in closer to him and he shouts, each word a mini-explosion, right into my ear. Okay, loud enough, Sir. Got it. Sheesh. Just lost one already half-fried eardrum.

"Colonel! Can you hear me? Can you walk? There are injured men trapped in the gateroom."

His eyes are wide and round, and for him that's a real feat. But what the hell is he talking about? Injuries from what? SG8? My head turns toward the observation window and… what the hell am I looking at? There's no gateroom there, just a big grey something. Oh. The blast shield is down. Why? Oh again. The window. I remember now. The thing that used to be Porter went down, the noise came up, and the observation window went south right along with everything in the room that wasn't nailed down. Including me. But what's he mean about people trapped in the gateroom?

Okay, I'm confused. I admit it. He puts a big paw on the far side of my head and shoves his face right into my left ear. "Colonel… you've been out for about five minutes. The window blew out into the gateroom and the men there were injured by pieces of glass. We need to get them out of there."

So. Fine. Open the goddamned blast door, then, and go get them. He's yelling something else about SG8. "It's SG8. The base is locked down. Intruders in the gateroom… SG8."

Oh, right. Okay, well, I guess my solution isn't worth mentioning. "Colonel, SG3 was on standby and are on the way to join Teal'c and Captain Carter in the control room. They'll go in after them."

Nope. Not without me, they won't. I've got a team member in there. I swap places with him and yell into his ear. "Are the cameras active?" He shakes his head and says something, but I don't catch it what with that caterwauling still going on. I feel my chest tighten up and I have an irresistible urge to whirl around and tell whatever's making that noise to just shut the hell up. Shit, this is ridiculous. My head is just pounding and my arm feels like it's falling off and Daniel's in the gateroom with three probable maniac aliens and a whole shitload of glass and… and where the hell is that Beretta? Where'd it go? I don't see it anywhere around here… my gear is scattered around right over there, though. As I make my way over in a fit of rage, I trip over the legs of one of the guards. Holy… buckets, oh crap, doesn't begin to cover it.

It's Webb. Nice guy, always really helpful. He's dead. The whole side of his head is caved in. Must have been flung into the edge of the table. The straw that broke the camel's back can't hold a candle to what the sight of that does to me. I know what I need to do. I'm at my gear and I've got the MP5 and I'm slapping the lever into place before Hammond can even move. But he does move and it's right into my line of fire. Shit, get the hell out of the way! I know he doesn't understand – but all it does is push me further into the need and I'm shoving him aside. All I can hear is that howling and all I can see now are those goddamn dead eyes and that open mouth and I want it to shut the goddamned stinking hell UP and I want to get my man out of that gateroom.

The noise snaps off so abruptly that I almost fall down. But… I didn't do… did I? I stare at the weapon in my hands. No. No, I didn't. It just – stopped. Why? Why did it stop? It's good that it stopped, but all the same I've got a really bad feeling that maybe it's not so good that it stopped on it's own.

"Well That's better." My voice sounds far too loud in the sudden silence. I turn to Hammond. "Ah, well, I hope it's better. It is better, isn't it?" He's gaping at me with a look of total astonishment on his face. I'm not sure if that's because of the unexpected blessed silence, or because he's come to understand I was just a split second away from turning the corpse of an SGC member into a whole bunch of messy lumps of raw hamburger. Ugh. Was that what I was going to do? Oh. Oh yeah… oh, God. What was I thinking? Hammond's eyes harden. Okay. It wasn't the noise cutting off like that, then. It was door number two, and I know once this is all over with I'm going to be on the receiving end of that 'not-another-word-mister' voice, about my lack of control here.

There's noise on the steps and the very top of Carter's head appears. Without even looking over the edge of the stairwell she hollers, "We've got video back!" and then she's gone as quickly as she didn't-quite appear. We pound down the steps after her and I round the corner into the control room just in time to catch some of her techno-prattle as she throws herself into the techie's seat. Something about the wavelength of the damned howl-from-hell setting up a kitty-counter-clatter-resonance-thingy to account for the air pressure distortion and having some kind of… what's she talking about? Electro-magnetic energy fields affecting the video? Well… look. I don't really care. Just show me the pictures.

There. I can see it – provided I can push past Teal'c. It's like trying to shoulder your way past a concrete wall. He turns, glaring, but sees it's me and nods slightly, moving over a bit. Still sporting a jaw of steel though. The video image is distorted and Carter's having trouble getting the thing to pan. We're getting a not so lovely view of the right-hand top one-third of the Stargate. I wave at the blast shield. "The glass is intact here. Can't we open this one up?"

"Oh, Colonel, you're here... you're all right! Sir, a combined variable electro-magnetic field and low wavelength…"

"Yeah, yeah, Carter. A simple yes or no will do. No, wait, a yes. Only a yes will do."

She looks back at me and I recognize that doe-eyed apologetic expression. It's a no, and she's about to launch into some explanation that I really don't want to hear. I hold one finger up and she bites off whatever was on her tongue. Pretty good. I didn't even have to 'ach-ach' her. When we're all done with this, I'm gonna order her to give Daniel lessons – Damn. Daniel. Make it pan, then, Carter. Work some magic and make it pan, because we really have to see what's what in there.

Teal'c is staring at the display. His tone of voice is as intense as his attention. "Captain Carter. If it is not possible to raise the blast shield due to some influence from the alien incursion, will the blast doors not still be affected as well? And why would the video return, but control of the blast shield remain disabled?" I can see he's holding something in his hands. It's black, whatever it is. He's got a death grip on it. I can't see what it is because he's scrunched it up so bad, but I can see his knuckles are pale.

General Hammond is looking both utterly confused and thoughtful. Only man I ever saw other than Dannyboy who could pull that off. "Captain Carter… are you saying the alien noise has damaged our equipment? That we've lost control over the lock out? We can't open the doors?" He scrubs a hand down his face and wobbles a bit. Looks like he needs to sit down.

"Oh, no, Sir. At least, not completely. We can disable the security lock out on the corridor doors all right. I just did that, so Colonel Makepeace and SG3 should be able to get through to us now. But the blast shields won't respond. I haven't tried the gateroom blast doors yet because I don't want to chance them opening until we're ready."

Damn right. I want to be there when those doors open. Standing front and centre in the receiving line. I don't even get the chance to open my mouth for the let's-get-to-it, because Carter's going on with more gobbledegook. So maybe she's not the ideal person to teach Daniel the correct response to the index finger after all.

"I think the electro-magnetic and atmospheric pressure fields generated in the conference room must have been in effect in the gateroom as well. Possibly as a result of the window blowing out." Carter looks at each of us in turn. That's her secret signal, our Captain Carter. It means that she's about to pile a big negative on us.

She bites her lip. Yup. Here it comes. "The cameras were affected while that… noise… was active, but as they're working now, I think the only explanation for the blast shields staying down is the window blast shields must be mechanically damaged, somehow. I think we need to be prepared for the possibility that the gateroom doors might be damaged as well."

Oh perfect. Just dandy. I have a question. The big question of the day, in fact. Just how in the hell are we going to get in there, then? It's probably rhetorical, but I'm getting organized to ask it anyway… but, hold on, the camera is finally panning down. What I'm seeing leaves me suddenly and completely speechless. Three, no, four – no, it's five – five men in the corner in what looks like a vicious parady of a rugby scrum. The image is not exactly clear, but I don't need it to be. My sore arm starts to sing off key and I recognize all too well what's happening there. Three of the security forces crew struggling with what used to be two members of SG8, and not doing so well. Where's the third? And the rest of security? And where's…

"Pan it over… the ramp. Show me the ramp, Carter." My voice is like gravel. I feel like I've got a gutload of the stuff.

"I'm trying, Sir. It isn't responding very well…"

I can see there's men down, and blood on the floor. They aren't moving. I can see the edge of the ramp. I can see… oh my God. Oh, hell. Somebody just gagged. I think it was Carter. Oh God please, tell me that's not Daniel. No, no it's not. That's jungle camo, not Daniel's forest green BDUs… it's… it looks like... it was Sergeant Harris. Ah God. Carter mutters about panning it and then starts furiously jabbing at the keyboard Can't say I blame her. I don't want that image to stay on the screen any more than she does. There's a commotion behind me. Makepeace. He's at my shoulder and I hear him swear under his breath. Nobody else is saying anything. Pan, damn it. And, finally, thankfully, it does.

The box is open, the lid thrown back all the way. Looks... empty? No, not quite. There's something in there, but can't tell what it is from this angle. The third used-to-be-SG8 is there, and so is Daniel. He's standing just next to the box and, oh crap, he's hurt. Blood, and something glinting – glass, there's glass in his shoulder. But there's something more than that. He's, he's twitching… writhing like, like... hell, I don't know what like, exactly. We have to get down there! My stomach twists into a knot and my arm is screaming at me. His image is weirdly distorted. It's like we're looking at him through a fog or something. What the hell is happening? Teal'c hisses at Carter and her fingers fly on the keyboard but it doesn't clear up any. Teal'c shifts his weight, muttering something that's definitely not in English, and all of a sudden he's leaning over her tapping on the keys himself. He's transferred that twisted-up thing he's been clutching over to one hand and I can see what it is now. Daniel's replacement holster.

"Kel'sha'k!" Teal'c's explosion brings my attention back to the screen. Something's come into view at the bottom of the screen… the business end of an MP5. Pointed toward Daniel. There's movement. Fast movement. Real fast. Some bad stuff happening all at once here. Something weird, the image isn't very clear – Oh holy shit! Daniel! He's having a, a seizure or something. Hands, coming into view… I can see hands on the weapon and moving faster now, an arm and now the back of the guy's head and shoulder. And the SG8 freak is moving toward Daniel… blocking my view –

Move! Get out of the way! Leave him alone! Stand aside, you alien piece of… Shit... I can't see…

There's a roar from Teal'c and a shout from behind me. In front of me, on the screen…

…there's death.

_________________________

 

13\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Shit! Oh God, oh shit ohshitohmigod...

I saw it, saw I did it, killed them both but cold I can feel it, I can feel it… this is wrong this shouldn't be, he told me to do it but… it was in him I saw it go in and I killed him but now...

No! You fucking whateverthehellyouare – oh God what now! What now!

I'm on three-shot and my trigger finger's going to break right off. I don't know what's making more noise, the weapon or me. Bullets and screams and sobs splattering the entire room, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, front and back. Chasing the damn thing. I know it's only seconds but it feels like hours going by but there's no way I can keep up – Fuck! Cold. It's cold and I need to get that thing... where the hell is it now? I need to shoot the damned shit out of it... my shoulders hurt my hands feel numb but I can't stop, I can't stop it's here and it's cold…

I saw the first shots hit home. That damned SG8 thing was in the line of fire before I even knew he'd made a move. Ended up I nailed him first, right in the back, and he went down real fast right in front of Jackson… and in the very next instant just before Jackson flipped backwards over the rail I could see the blood and the ripped fabric dead centre on Jackson's chest.

Oh crap, crap. It's here. It's out here. But he looked so sure; I thought he was so sure… he made me kill him, I thought he was so certain.

He was... wrong. He was wrong!

"Fucking bastard you made me kill you!" The scream rips from my lips. Feels like my throat just turned inside out. It echoes through the room. Why can I hear it so good? Ah shit. It's out. The magazine is empty… it's all out. But my hands are locked on to it. I can't even drop the thing. Too fucking scared-frozen to even drop an empty weapon.

There's that stench and gust of air so cold it hurts, passing left to right across me. I turn to follow it and… God… Joe! There they are in the corner over there – that's why he wasn't answering. Oh no no no. Joe's hurting and it looks like the other two guys are, they're… oh please let them be passed out. I have to get over there; have to make those two let go of Joe. Damn legs are doing their own thing again, though. Move! Joe… those two goons are letting him go now, he stands still for a second and now he's falling. His legs aren't working any better than mine, but he's got a better reason. Damn it – pull yourself together, Eddie!

Everybody over there looks all weird for a second and the two goons turn and swivel their heads first to their right and then around to look up toward the blast shields behind me. They... hell, they're tracking the thing. God… they can see it easier than me and they're watching it and that could be my way to get it. Suddenly my legs unfreeze and I'm lunging for the nearest weapon, which happens to still be hanging around Sergeant Harris. Shit. Don't look, just do it. I pull it off him and choke on something that tastes real bad. There's a popping noise behind me, high up. Swing around – dizzy, wait, balance – bring up the rifle… but there's nothing there. I can't see where it is. A flash and another pop and I see the video camera high up on the left fry big time. It's there! A hazy, dirty-looking, all but invisible smudge moves along the concrete wall, and I open fire, running toward it. Toward it? What am I… nuts?

Out of the corner of my eye I catch the two freaks moving toward me. I run for the door and flatten myself against it because no way I'm gonna let them behind me. A couple of warning shots and they're backing off. I don't understand… they've both got Berettas strapped on. Why aren't I full of holes? That thing is still flying around here somewhere. Can't see it. Oh mother of God please don't let it do me like it did Jackson. Joe's moving around some. He's trying to pick up that M16… looks like his hands don't work any better than his legs. Aw shit – they see him. Wait. They aren't doing anything. They're not moving to him or to me. Just standing there. Totally freaking weird. I should shoot them. Drop them both now while I have the chance.

Big guy lunging toward Jackson right into the line of fire getting in the way shoot now do it now… three shots spitting out… control the recoil… oh shit his back, his head, all exploding going down…

No! Don't think about that! Don't get distracted. C'mon… do these guys now before they figure out they're armed – yeah, that must be it – the freaking things probably don't even know what the sidearms are. No. That's stupid. They gotta… Joe. He's yelling something at me. Whaa… shoot? Yes, he wants me to shoot. Yeah, man, so do I want me to shoot. But my hands don't want to work any better than yours.

Jackson… blood, a hole dead centre… driven back twisting flipping back over the rail there's blood on the ramp, on the rail, gone over the rail gone…

I don't want to kill anybody else. Oh please don't make me. Don't make me kill anyone else. Cold cold cold… there's a change in the air and that bad smell zooms past. Those two are whirling around and looking back to where Joe is and I can see it now. It's hanging above Joe doing it's hover-stretch act again. God, no, it's going to take him! He's screaming. I can't let this happen – the MP5 is jumping in my hands and the noise is huge. Please don't let me hit Joe, please not Joe just the thing, just hit the thing…

Shit! All at the same time there's a terrible noise, a shudder at my back, and a pull at my shoulders and I'm being tugged sideways, suddenly shooting at the ceiling instead of where I need to. The door I'm leaning against is moving, jerkily sliding to the right, pushing both me and my aim all off kilter. It goes about four feet and stops. Ignore it. Refocus. Step over to the left… balance… re-aim. The SG8 guys are rubbernecking like tourists, into thin air. Hold fire, follow the direction of their gawking; there it is… still there. Gotta get it to move away from Joe. Help Joe. Squint and find it find it and aim carefully – there's someone behind me, stepping up beside me and there's a hand on my arm. No! Distracting me. Don't!

Oh shit, wait a minute here… ah hell, the door – the door is open behind me and if I fire to move it away from Joe, it might get out of here. Oh piss... what now? What do I do now?

Gotta tell them. I shrug off the hand on my arm. "No... let go! Can't lose sight of it. Close the fucking door." It comes out low, in a hiss, and I don't know if they understand me. It's still there, above Joe. Follow the outline with the rifle sight; move with it… what's it doing? Bunching up, hovering there, floating side to side. There's voices next to me, one of them sharp and commanding and obviously expecting an answer, but I can't answer. I'm not even sure what he said. Concentrate on the thing. Don't let it go into Joe… but don't provoke it either.

"What are you tracking?" A presence at my shoulder and a real deep voice right in my ear. No way I'm gonna take my eyes off that thing to see who it is. Whoever it is, though, is big. My size, at least.

"There. Above Joe. Can't let it out. You have got to close that damn door!" My voice is a shaking, raspy whisper. A big, dark hand touches my own on the barrel of the weapon, pressing against the back of my hand, and I realize my voice isn't the only thing that's totally unsteady.

"I do not see anything." The man's breath leaves my neck and his voice is directed somewhere else. "O'Neill, there may be an alien entity here."

"What? Yeah, of course there is. Those two right there. Makepeace, you guys squeeze in here and cover them, make sure they don't move. Don't let them touch you." It's the sharp voice again and I figure its gotta be Colonel O'Neill. "Teal'c, take care of this guy. Carter, with me. Let's get Daniel."

I feel like screaming at them, don't bother. Jackson's dead dead dead. He's dead, I killed him because he told me to, I killed him and he's dead as dead can be – but I settle for as firm and as loud as I can muster, "No. It's not just them. Don't come in here. And close the goddamned door."

"What? What, don't come in?" The colonel's just behind me now, looking over my shoulder, the barrel of his own rifle held high, but it's not pointing in the right direction. He doesn't see it. He lets the muzzle float, scanning the room once, and it disappears from view. And I feel the tip of his rifle against the back of my shoulder. "Carter, see if they can't get the door to open any further. Teal'c, disarm this nutcase and get him out of our way." Shit. He doesn't see it. He's thinking I'm off the deep end – or worse, maybe. Maybe those cameras saw what I did.

The thing moves faster than I would have thought possible. It darts over to one side and kind of... thickens... gets real muddy-looking and bunched up, and suddenly dives for Joe. There's a bizarre whooshing noise beside me and a flash and the wall behind where it was flares with light or fire or something. I can barely track the thing as it does a swoop and roll and hits Joe in the chest like a giant hammer. He screams and his body jerks... and it's… oh shit, it's coming out from behind him, it's gone right through him! He falls to the ground and I just know he's dead.

It flips up to the ceiling and I'm far too slow to keep sight of it. But I'm not too slow to know that we gotta get that door closed. I sweep my weapon around and scream at them all to get out and I move like I've never moved before. Whirl around and lay the side of the MP5 against whatever person is in it's way and shove, pushing as hard as I can to the open door. She makes a squeaking noise as she lands on her butt in the corridor and O'Neill is just a few feet away so I charge at him, too. He doesn't squeak. The noise he makes when he hits the guy behind him and they both hit the floor outside is more like a roar, but I don't care. There's other voices yelling but I'm screaming too loud to know what they're saying. They have to get out and close that damn door!

Hands grab at me and I shake them off. Where is it, where is it… I search the ceiling hoping it hasn't gone behind us. Oh shit! Ah, cold... something really hurts on my arm; one of those SG8 guys has ahold of me and it feel like he's ripping into my arm with a fork. There's weapons fire and yelling and too much pain, too much noise and I can't find it… I'm blowing it, I know I'm messing up… it's gonna get out…

Something hits me like a battering ram. Backward. I'm going backward. Agh. Shoulder. Catch my shoulder on the edge of the door. There's a second of hang time and I hit the ground and what the fuck? Huge squealing, grinding noise. There's a hand on my neck and an ugly face stuck in mine and spit hits me in the eye as he screams at me.

_________________________

 

15 Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
I'm so ripping mad I don't even know what I'm saying. Moron! Just who the hell does he think he is … getting in our way in there, between us and those things that used to be SG8. Pushed Carter and me out of the room like we were dustballs caught in his sweeper. Damn asshole shot Daniel. I saw it. Okay, so that was an accident, he was going for Robinson, but still – The door's closed up now and Carter's radioing up to the control room. Lock out the door control? No! Can't do that; we have to get Daniel out of there first. We don't have time for pissing around out here.

The kid underneath me looks pretty much pole-axed. Don't even know precisely what I said to him but I'm pretty sure I delivered my message. I haul up on his shoulder and his head kisses the floor with a satisfying smack as I just as harshly let go of him. I'm up, reaching for the switch on my radio and scrambling to the door, but Teal'c is in the way. Get your hand off my chest, Teal'c.

"O'Neill. There appears to be a third entity. I believe my staff caught it, however we must ensure that the aliens inhabiting SG8 are not able to open the doors until we confirm that it has been neutralized."

What the hell is he talking about? I'm spitting mad and this slab of meat he calls a hand, pressing on my chest, isn't helping matters any. "What entity? Neutralized? You mean the wall you killed in there? Teal'c, I didn't see anything. We need to go get Daniel."

"I believe it was there." He won't let me step away from him.

He believes it was there? So, what, we're going to sit out here twiddling our thumbs discussing beliefs while Daniel is in there maybe bleeding to death... even may be already … uh-uh. Don't go there. Stop it. There's still a chance. Getting slimmer every minute we spend farting around out here, though.

A voice. From down on the floor. The kid must not be a total moron; he knows enough to stay where we put him. "You didn't 'neutralize' it. All you did was provoke it into killing Joe. You never should have opened the door in the first place."

Then again, maybe he is short a few bricks. If he keeps this up he'll lose a few more. My foot is, like, an inch from his face and nobody invited him into the conversation, never mind giving him permission to be insubordinate. "You, shut up." Back to Teal'c. This kid I don't know from a hole in the head; all I know about him is he shot Daniel... and there's nothing else worth knowing. Teal'c, well, even pissed as I am, him I'll talk to. "Look, I don't want to hear what you believe. I want to hear facts. Is there a threat in there or not? Other than the two Mr. Freezie-Pops?"

He gives me that eyebrow thing. "I cannot be certain. But I believe so."

"Ah-ah. There's that b-word again. That's not good enough. Carter, go on up, see what the video shows and radio down to me. We…"

"You won't see anything. The cameras are knocked out." The unwelcome voice from below again. I thought I told him to shut up? "They blew out just after I… just, well, just after. That thing took them out. And even if they were working, you probably wouldn't be able to see it." My toes are starting to twitch here.

"Go, Carter." She does. Makepeace and his men are shifting around impatiently. I catch his eye and he looks… what? His face is all screwed up. Is he hurt? No, that's not it. What? He gives a quick jerk of his head to the ground and I follow it, and for the first time the state this kid is in penetrates my thick skull. He's red-in-the-face-chin-trembling-eyes-watering really upset. My eyes drift over him. He's got hold of the hem of his BDU jacket, pulling it up high to his chest, mangling it worse than Teal'c mangled the holster and… oh, for crying out loud. There's a wet stain on his pants.

Ah, hell. He's only a green gate guard. Total inexperience. Hasn't even had time to sew on his third stripe yet. What were the Brass thinking, bringing him down here? Shit. He didn't make this happen. And he just killed people in there. Gut twist. Agh, hurts. Wasn't going to go there, remember? One person. Not two. Just one; just one kill. Okay, granted, a baddie… but nevertheless it's got to be his first kill and that's no fun for anyone. My eyes go back up to Makepeace and I know it looks like I just ate a whole lemon. He gives me his patented Makepeace fake sneer of superiority – God I hate that – and reaches out a hand, nodding at the kid that it's okay to get up, and hauls him to his feet. This is one big kid. Strong son of a bitch, too – I've got the bruise on my butt to prove it.

Carter comes whizzing around the corner, out of breath and looking worried. "Sir! General Hammond's passed out up there. There's a medical team on the way." She looks at the kid. "And, he's right. Cameras are out. We still can't raise the shield to have a look, either. It must be warped, like this door, only worse. Sir, about the blast door, I think.."

Ah shit. I shut her down. I don't want to hear any more theories on why the damned things don't work right. "Not now, Carter. We're going to have to go in blind. Makepeace, you guys take out the two hostiles and check the others for survivors, and Carter you're with me to get Daniel." I turn to Teal'c. "You think you saw something in there? Take point then, and if you see it you can, uh, point it out."

There's quick movement and the kid is standing between us and the door. "No. That's a mistake. You can't open the door. Uh, umm... Sir." He's right next to Teal'c and damned if he's not just that bit bigger than the Jaffa. He's also strung up tight, his eyes blazing, body trembling, his posture defensive. He looks immovable. Damn it. Get out of the goddamn way…

"Airman? What's your name?" Carter's slid in by my side. She's got her hand on my arm. Deja vu. You'd think she doesn't trust my interpersonal relations skills or something. I miss his answer, but she got it because now she's addressing him by name. "Okay, Mason. It's over now. You did what you had to. You're out of there, you're safe, and now you need to let us do our job."

He jerks like he was just shot himself, and stares at us. "You think I don't want you to open the door just because I'm scared?"

Bingo. Give the man a prize. We don't have time for this. Daniel doesn't have time for this. "Mason, get out of the way. That's an order." I don't have to work to make my tone worse than harsh. Carter's fingers dig into my arm.

"No! You don't understand. You'll let it out." He's starting to sound a bit hysterical. Carter reaches a hand out toward him, but he bats it away. He's yelling now. "I'm not some crazy stressed out jerk! There's something in there and it's dangerous and if you open the door you're going to let it out!"

"I didn't see anything!" I'm yelling right back. Why am I doing that? He's an airman, by God, and last time I looked I was a full colonel. Crap, am I ever frustrated. If he doesn't move out of the way I swear I'm gonna shoot him.

Yup. Borderline hysterical. His face is beet red and he's hollering. "It's there! It's there! It just killed Joe and it got inside Dr. Jackson and he told me to, to, to... and it is there! It's invisible and I saw it and you can't let it out!"

Oh for... I have to really concentrate to keep myself from – Whoa. Back up here. What'd he just say about Daniel? Who told who, to what? Carter pipes up before I can even get my jaw back where it belongs. "Wait. Mason… what got inside Dr. Jackson?"

"The thing, that thing! Captain, I just told you. It came out of the box. It got all the way inside Dr. Jackson and he told me to, to – he said now but it didn't work like I thought it was supposed to and I saw it, it must have left him. I had it in sight but you guys came in and shot at it and it killed Joe… it's invisible and if it gets out of there it could go all through this place…"

Whoa, whoa, whoa. This pony's galloping out of control. Makepeace lets out a huge snort and moves forward, but I put my hand up and he stops. Teal'c is silent at my side, looking intently thoughtful and as much as I sympathize with Makepeace – I just want to just push the kid out of the way, too – I know that look on Teal'c's face. As crazy as the kid sounds and as worried as I am about Daniel, I'm starting to think maybe it's time to back off a bit and listen.

Teal'c stares at the kid and asks, "The third entity came from out of the box?" He gets a frantic nod as a response. "You said it is invisible. How then could you have observed it?"

The kid looks flustered and his mouth gets to jawing open and closed for a few seconds. "Uh… ahm. Okay, well it's not completely invisible, I guess. If you look real close, you can see the edges of it. They look kind of grey, and whatever it's in front of looks sort of fuzzy and warped, like you're looking through somebody else's dirty glasses or something." He's wringing his hands together and looking sickeningly earnestly hopeful. I'm getting a sinking feeling in my gut.

Carter jumps a bit and grabs my shoulder. "Sir! The video display!" Oh, crap. Teal'c is nodding, Makepeace mutters something that sounds like 'yeah, could be', and I'm having trouble controlling my breathing. There can't be some dire threat to mankind loose in there. Daniel is in there. Ah damn… why can't anything ever be simple anymore; just get in, kill the bad guys, rescue the poor bleeding slob on the floor, and get out?

"Yes. The person of Daniel Jackson on the monitor was blurred in comparison to the surrounding images. You recall, neither Captain Carter nor myself could refocus the lens to clear the image." Teal'c's voice doesn't sound any different, but his words, his corroboration, changes everything. "The distortion cleared immediately after we witnessed the shooting. When we entered, I observed a slightly more pronounced version of the same effect just before I fired my staff weapon."

Oh, I don't want to hear this I just want to go get my teammate. But Teal'c is going to make sure nothing is left open to question. "The disturbance was difficult to discern, and I would not have seen it if Airman Mason had not drawn my attention to that area. O'Neill, there is a virtually invisible deadly alien force in the embarkation room."

There's a hitch in Carter's voice. "Sir, they're right. As much as we need to get to Daniel, we can't open that door without a way to locate the threat first. But… even if we did find a way, I'm worried…"

"It doesn't matter. I, I'm sorry, Sirs. He's… already dead." Mason's voice is flat. "I saw where he got hit. I was still firing when the other guy went down… and I saw where Dr. Jackson…" He can't keep it on the straight and level for long; his voice starts to quiver and he looks like he's going to burst into tears. But he's going to finish it, to get out the information we need. My quick flash of sympathy for him disappears under the avalanche of horrible understanding he sets off, as he continues. "The hostile got in my way at first, but he got hit and went down fast and I was still firing. I had a… a clear line. I saw it. He was sh-sh-shot in the chest, Ma'am. Dead centre. He, he was gone before he… h-his body even went over the rail."

The hostile got in the way? No. He had a clear line? No. No, no, no. My brain gives one last ditch try at denying it. I'm desperately telling myself I'm misunderstanding him here… we saw it on the monitor. The bad guy was the target. It was an accident, Daniel was hit by the follow through and he could still be… Oh my God. My body accepts it a split second before my head does and suddenly I find myself lunging at him. I have him pinned up against the wall and then he says it – he says it, and I have no choice now, I can't push away acknowledging it.

"Sir… I'm sorry. Dr. Jackson, he wanted me to do it. I had to kill him." Aw crap. I understand what he's saying and it's killing me. Daniel is dead and it wasn't from any misfire or freak accident or stray bullet. He was – murdered. Outrage is spilling from my mouth and my hands are clenched so tight on his jacket they're hurting.

I'm ripped away in a strong grip and find myself pushed up against Makepeace. He grabs onto me and hisses into my ear. "Knock it off. Leave it for later." He's right, but there's explosions going off inside me and I have to force myself to stand there and shut up. Carter looks like she's struggling with her own reaction, and Teal'c has taken my place. His hand is on Mason's collar, but he's standing further away than I did and his face and voice are calm as he questions the guy.

"You fired upon Daniel Jackson intentionally? For what reason?"

Mason is breathing so heavily he's having trouble talking. "He told me to." I can't see Teal'c's face but I can imagine the 'encouraging' look he's giving Mason. "That thing was there, it had him, it was going inside him. I saw it." There's tears starting to run down his cheeks. I don't care. The prick killed Daniel. He's looking past Teal'c, right at me. "Really, I'm so sorry. H-he was… hurting really bad. He looked at me… nodded at my weapon and when that thing went all the way inside him he told me to do it. He screamed at me, Sir. He told me to do it."

Oh shit. Oh, Daniel. I never should have left you alone down there. Oh God. A year and a half spent subtly spreading my wisdom around the base on the fine art of pretending to humour Daniel's offbeat suggestions… and this shit comes along and claims all he did was exactly what Daniel told him to, the first time off? Even when that thing is to fucking kill him? Oh, I don't think so. Nobody does something just because Daniel says so. That's my department. Okay, so maybe Carter sneaks in there sometimes when I'm not looking. Besides, Daniel's not the suicidal type and he's not a coward. He wouldn't give up like that. No frigging way.

"Why would he do that? Why would he want you to kill him?" What? Makepeace. It's Makepeace. Hey, good question, Robbie. I really want to hear the answer to that. Hah. Try justifying it, kiddo, just try. You're dead meat, Bucko.

"I think… I'm pretty sure he thought killing him would kill the thing inside him, Sir."

Makepeace is nodding, like that's a reasonable answer or something. Ohhh no. No way am I letting him off the hook here. No way I'm going to let him pin this on the victim. "That's bullshit. You were afraid of the thing and you shot him. You murdered him."

"No! Goddamn it – No! You think I wanted to do that? You don't know what went down. You didn't see it… you didn't have to look him in the eye! He told me, he ordered me to do it! You think I pissed myself out of pleasure or something?" He obviously believes what he's saying, but even so I don't feel in the least bit charitable toward him like I was starting to before. Before I knew what really happened.

No, I don't think he pissed his pants from enjoyment. I think he lost his water in a panic over himself. I think he's a coward and he killed Daniel to save his own worthless hide. And I tell him so. And it's the last straw for both of us, because he snaps and he's straining against Teal'c crying a flood of tears and he starts screaming at me about how I'm wrong and how he's sorry – and I can't stand to be in his presence for one more minute.

We've got bigger fish to fry. Get rid of him, Teal'c.

_________________________

 

16 Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
"So. Ideas on this alien thingy, anyone?" No one is answering. Makepeace and his men glance at each other. They all know who I'm really asking, but she isn't answering either. I can see her fighting with the same awful truth I'm struggling with; the scene we saw on the monitor wasn't an accidental, non-lethal shooting. It was an execution. Daniel's execution. It replays in my head for the fifth time in less than that many minutes, just like it has every minute since I saw it.

Except it's all changed now. It's not a tragic accident taking the life of my teammate, filling me with loss, that I'm now seeing. I think I could have lived with those images of his death in my head. Instead, I'm seeing him purposefully blown away with a vicious shot to the chest. I'm seeing blood and suffering – cold-blooded murder – and I'm filled with rage.

If the pressure in my chest and the lump in my throat are anything to go by, Carter's got to be feeling really badly. But Makepeace was right. We don't have time for this right now, and I really need her to be here with me. We need to figure out if there's a threat or not, and what to do about it if there is. Come on, Carter. I reach out and touch her shoulder. God, she's tense. "So, what do you think, Carter? Do we have Casper's evil twin on our hands?"

She takes a deep breath and brings herself back to us. "I don't believe in ghosts, Sir. From Mason's description, though, it's possible we're dealing with a more plausible alternative to such a non-corporeal entity."

"What? Like a real ghost? You've lost me, Carter."

"What I mean is this could be an alien being which doesn't interact with wavelengths that we are sensitive to, Colonel. It's theoretically possible that we're missing a significant portion of its emissions, so we can't detect it's presence. Either it simply doesn't interact with most of the wavelengths and frequencies we can detect, or we aren't sensitive to the portions of the spectrum it does interact with. Not a ghost, Sir."

"I seem to remember hearing one honking huge annoying noise not long ago, Carter. Those were some frequencies I can really identify with."

"Well, yes, Sir. But what holds true with light waves doesn't necessarily have to hold true for sound emissions."

Makepeace breaks in. "Captain… about the light waves. You mean, it's like a sheet of glass? It's transparent because light photons pass through, but some wavelengths we can see reflect off it, so we can… sort-of see it?" Okay, what did this guy do with the real Makepeace? He's actually following her? I'll have to catch her alone later when we're all done with this mess; get her to explain it to me. But he's still talking. "If the reason we can't see this thing is because most of our light waves go right through it… then, what you're saying is that it's solid matter."

Hey. Sounds good to me. Yeah, I know how to handle solid matter. Let's go and blast the thing into oblivion. Guns, grenades, a rocket launcher or two. Hell, I'd love to do it in with my bare hands. I know just the…

Teal'c's deep voice, coming closer from around the corner, shatters my preferred strategy even as I'm planning it. "That does not necessarily mean what you think, Colonel Makepeace. There is a creature in Jaffa legend which was as this one seems. Difficult to discern, capable of affecting solid matter, and said to have been capable of entering and possessing the bodies of other species." He's next to me now, and he looks straight at me. "Even the body of a Goa'uld. I have never encountered such a creature myself, O'Neill, but legend states that no weapon was effective against it while it was in its natural form."

"Teal'c, this thing – if there even is a thing in there – isn't your legend. It's an alien, and if it's solid, we can blow it to pieces. And it is solid. Right, Carter?" The agreement I'm hoping for isn't there. She gives me one of those annoyingly reluctant, apologetic looks. Damn.

"Yes and no, Sir. Mason said he saw it go inside Da… into, people. Certainly, Major Porter was either controlled or altered by something, presumably at the cellular level. If it can integrate itself so completely with us like that, it might not be actually corporeal... at least according to the way we commonly use that word. It may not be in the same solid matter state we are familiar with – either it exists as something roughly analogous to a gaseous or energy state, or possibly it's capable of altering itself from one state to another."

"If that is so, if we can provoke a transformation to solid matter we could use our weapons to destroy it." Thank God for Teal'c. Ever the pragmatist. I'm about to leap all over the idea, but Carter steps in. I should have known she would.

"That's a good thought, Teal'c, but we don't know how to do that. We don't even know what state it's in to begin with, and what stimuli it reacts to. There's no way to even begin to try to find out, either. We can't see it, and if it doesn't interact with the same wavelengths we do, it might be all but impossible to detect it in some other way with the equipment we have."

Okay, enough conversation. I've got the gist of this now and at some point we're going to have to make some assumptions and take some risks. Now is as good a time as any. Daniel may be dead, but there are downed guards in there and some of them might still be alive. "Teal'c. Mason's tucked in somewhere?"

"I left him in the conference room, O'Neill, with instructions that he should not move from that location. I told him you might be needing to speak with him, and you would expect that he will still be there."

Yeah, well, the last part was true. "Good. Go to the armory and fetch some infra-red goggles, will you?" He raises his eyebrows, but thankfully leaves right away without questioning the decision. Carter has her mouth open but I'm not in the mood for any more long discussions. I've got a brain too, and sometimes I can actually use it. "Yes, Carter, I know. But there's no way of really knowing if they're going to be useful until we try them, is there? That thing in Porter was stone cold, believe me. I don't see any better ideas flying around. There may be people still alive in there, and we need to get this show on the road." She shuts her mouth, and as I turn away Makepeace is tugging at her arm with a huge question mark on his face. I guess he's not so bright after all. Either that, or I'm really barking up the wrong tree and he's wa-aay smarter than me.

There's one more thing that has to be done before we pop this door. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not. If there's anyone alive in there needing medical attention, the med team won't be able to get through… but on the other hand, if there is something in here and we let it out when we open the door, I don't want it to be able to go far. A bit of a dilemma. Daniel… what would he have to say about this? Never mind. It's my decision to make. God, I wonder if I'd be doing this if I thought Daniel might be still alive? Yeah, yes I would, because it's the right decision.

Depressing the switch on my radio, I tell the tech in the control room to kill all but one of the lights in the gateroom. Carter's staring at me as I go on to tell him to lock the entire base down tight, nobody goes anywhere, all doors to stay closed except on joint command from any two of me, her, and Teal'c. I know what she's thinking. I guess if there is something bad in there, I'm just going to have to be sure two of us stay alive and stay ourselves, that's all.

Teal'c is back. Put 'em on, load, rack 'em up. "Everybody ready?"

Carter, Teal'c, and Makepeace give me the grim thumbs up. Weapons trained on the door. Eyes forward. They're ready. The tech in the control room is ready; he's waiting on our word to spring the door. Yep, everybody is ready.

Everybody but me. Now that we're actually going to go in there, I'm suddenly stuck in flash-back mode. The scene from the video display is running through my head all over again. How could I have let this happen? I should have known there was something wonky right from the start. I should have dragged Daniel out of there with me, not to mention the security forces as well – that's what I should have done. That damned box should have been isolated right from the get go. Instead, I complacently tagged along after whatever-the-hell-that-was up to the briefing room and left all those guys alone in there with it.

Left Daniel alone with the rest of whatever-the-hell-they-are.

And now we're going to get him out of there, damn it. Too bad it's too late. My heart twists in my chest. This hurts more than I ever thought it could.

Maybe the new kid was wrong… maybe… agh, who am I kidding? We all saw it. But, even if it wasn't fatal, or, or, something. No. Daniel's been in there for far too long now with whatever those SG8 guys have become. If he wasn't already dead when what's-his-name – Mason, right, that's it – when Mason barreled out of there into us, he wouldn't have lasted very long anyway, in the hands of those things.

My arm still hurts like hell from my own encounter. God. I hope – oh shit. Knock it off. Just get on with it. There's nothing to hope for. Get his body out of there. There'll be time for wallowing later.

I just hope…

God. I hope he didn't suffer.

_________________________

 

17 SrA Eddie Mason

Well, Webb, there you have it. The whole story. My rise from an inglorious grunt of a gate guard to a glorious ignoramus of a... 'Gate Guard. Well, almost. I almost got to be a Guardian of the 'Gate. Now I'm just going to be... toast. No, make that jam. I'm going to be the jam on Colonel O'Neill's toast.

I wanted to be a General someday, Webb. Okay, don't look at me like that. I know I can't get there from here. But I was thinking I could go to school, you know? Get myself a degree in something, apply for commissioning. Or maybe even start from the outside; get out of here, get some education and apply to the Air Force Academy. What? You don't think I'm smart enough? I can be educated. I'm not a total – Yes, I am. A total idiot. All I'm going to be soon is court-martialed. Oh fucking hell. The death of a dream.

But that's all right. Being jam under O'Neill's bootheel is okay. You wanna know why that's okay? Because I just killed an innocent man, Webb. I lined him up and I pulled the trigger and I pissed myself and I saw... oh Jesus it's tearing me up inside, I saw him die. He always said good morning to me up at the gate and asked me how I was and he never minded when I searched his vehicle and I killed him.

He even touched me once, just after I first got assigned on the surface, you know? On my birthday. Somehow he knew it was my twenty-first birthday and he g-got out of the c-c-car and, and he shook m-m… he shook my h-hand.

I killed him.

_________________________

 

18 Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
I nod at Carter and she confirms the order into her comm. And we wait for the door to open... and we wait... and wait...

Shit! Fighting to keep a handle on my tone of voice, I'm on my comm to Davis asking why the damned door is still closed and he's answering, saying if it's still closed there's nothing he can do about it from there because his screen says it ought to be open. Well, shit, I'm here to tell you buster that it's... uh uh, okay. Deep breaths. Control. No point in abusing the technician. That won't help.

"Sir. I was worried about this. It wasn't very functional before; it barely closed back up for us. I think the additional stress of using it damaged, on top of the resonance of the..."

I almost yell at her that, yeah, yeah already, I know. The clatter-clancy-kitty vibration thing and I don't hear the hydraulics even trying to kick in this time. It's fully stuck closed and we're goddamned shut out of the gateroom and I can't fucking believe this – Davis asks if he should try the other door, C1, and four voices scream "No!" into their comms at the same time. No, don't try to open the door for Christ sake... but it jars some brain cells and we all stare at each other for an instant and turn and pelt up the stairs. We're like stampeding buffaloes going through the control room to the back stairway and into the C1 corridor. Davis barely gets the door between the control room and the corridor open for us in time; Teal'c nearly lost his nose on its edge. And I think I almost nailed that guy in the white coat holding his clipboard, at the top of the steps. What the hell exactly does he do around here, anyway? Never mind. We're at the other blast door now, and Carter and Teal'c give Davis the go ahead to give it a try. On our count. One... two... three, and...

The door is noisily sliding open – just a few feet, though. Damn thing's all warped to shit. We need to get in there fast and get that door closed. As we charge through the opening, I'm scanning the walls and ceiling near the door and hollering both at my team and into the radio. "Big black spots, people. Look for the dark side." We're all in. "Close it up!" Teal'c and Carter both repeat the order and I hear the door slide and seal up behind me. "Anybody?"

Six frustrated voices all report… nothing. Shit. Me too. It's hard to interpret just what I'm seeing. There's shades of grey of varying intensities everywhere; heat sources, not quite the well defined familiar shapes I'm used to seeing in here. I can make out SG3 moving around – whitish man-shaped blobs creeping and leaning over some other human-looking blobs on the floor. They're checking out the guards. Good.

What if I'm wrong about this? Porter was cold, yeah, but that doesn't mean this will work. Hell, for all I know these goggles just make us more blind to it. For all I know, we could have already let the thing out. God, I hope we didn't – Wait! There… oh holy hell – there's one big huge chunk of black nothingness hovering somewhere over toward the other side of the room. Hard to tell where, exactly, though. With these goggles on, my depth perception just isn't what it ought to be. Piss. Damn. Hell.

Teal'c hears me swearing under my breath. His calm voice isolates it for me. "I see it as well. It is located six feet above the far side of the ramp, approximately ten feet in front of the Stargate." How'd he do that? I can discern the outline of the ramp railing now though, and I can place the thing in relation to it. Thank you, Teal'c.

Carter's standing just behind me whispering into my ear. "You were right, Sir. It's close to being completely devoid of heat. No apparent infra-red emissions, or at least none that these goggles can pick up." Why is she whispering? Surely the thing knows we're here. "Maybe with some of the really sensitive, more sophisticated..." She's still going on, and I shush her with a light swat on the shoulder.

Ugh. It just hits me that it's real. Mason was right. It is here. Oh holy shit… so how much of whatever else he told us was right? Did this thing attack – Oh my God. Daniel. It's hovering right above where we saw Daniel go over the rail. Never mind. That doesn't matter because he's dead. He's really dead… but all of a sudden I have this overwhelming need to check on him. There's this huge swell in my chest and… and I'm not so sure anymore? I need to go see Daniel. God, oh God. All at once there's two voices in my head, screaming at me. One is telling me to forget it, he's dead, dead, he's dead… and the other's hollering that he's alive and I need to get my butt over there, like, yesterday.

I'll pick alive for five hundred, Alex.

"Heads up and keep your eyes on the prize, people." I fire directly into the thing. Nothing. It just moves slightly to one side. I know that was a direct hit and yet it's still hanging there. Damn. "Teal'c, try your staff. Aim dead centre." A flash blooms and streaks out. It's blinding through the goggles and for a second I can't see anything but that line of bright white. Then Carter's crying out and I see it. It didn't like that; it's still in one piece, but it's flattened out and is flitting around up at the ceiling, darting back and forth over top of the Stargate. Away from where it had been. Away from where I need to go. Okay… so we've got to move now, while we have the chance. If we even do have a chance. That thing is fast. "Carter… with me." I'm whispering now. Why am I doing that?

I hate these things. I can't see properly and the last thing I need is to stumble and end up shooting myself. A quick flip of my hand solves the problem, two steps forward, and through normal vision I see Harris. Damn. I wish I were still wearing the goggles. Six long strides, I'm rounding the bottom of the ramp, and in the dim light I see him, laying there half under the ramp. "Teal'c? Still got it?" Yeah, he's on it, and it hasn't moved. Carter's come up beside me. "Teal'c, you and Makepeace don't take your eyes off that thing. What about survivors?"

Makepeace answers. "Four, all pretty much out of commission, plus one uninvited guest in the form of Captain Brody, regrettably undamaged. He's, it's… whatever it is, it's just standing there. Hasn't moved."

"Don't let it touch anyone." Shit. Only four guys out of eight. Okay. Time to go get Daniel. "Carter, take that thing off your face so you can see. Let's go check him out."

_________________________

 

19 Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
Oh, going to puke.

What happened? Don't remember… can't move, can't see anything but starbursts – white spots on black, blooming, growing, fading –

Loud buzzing in my ears. Other noises, something fast and loud and then gone, and... voices? Could it be voices? Dunno. Pretty fuzzy here. Pain in my shoulder and my chest, not so fuzzy... that's really clear, thanks.

Hard to breathe. Almost wish I could stop breathing; chest is really hurting.

Why? Oh wait. Box, P3Y665. Okay, yeah. SG8. And, and… oh, a big cold foul-smelling – Oh God. Her. Sylestria. They let her out. Blood in my mouth, I can taste it now. I'm, uh… oh. Feeling woozy here. But all the same, I'm alive and I'm me. Alive. Me. I'm me.

I'm... me. Oh shit, I am still me. Which means, oh no, it means... that I failed. Oh, damn. Not a good thing. Very Bad.

So she's out, on the loose? Must be. Somebody… we… no, I... I really blew it. Wasn't supposed to go like this. Jack is going to kill me – or at least going to grind me into the ground with his tongue in front of everyone in the whole damn room.

Uhh… in the room. What room am I in, anyway? Wait, not sure, but think maybe I'm still in the embarkation room? Can't tell. Dizzy. Hurts.

Hear noises. Voices? Somebody here? Anybody? Is anybody...? Help. I need, agh... help...

Not enough air. Chest hurts. Need more air. If I ever find out the name of that Mack truck of an airman who killed me all wrong, I'm… I'm gonna… gonna…

Gonna pass out … that's what…

I'm… gonna… do…

_________________________

  
20\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Okay, smart ass. You really did it now, didn't you. All that confidence over having made the right decision, despite the look on Carter's face. Yeah. That look. The one I'm getting a repeat, only more intense, version of right now. Oh damn. God damn. Mason didn't kill him after all. Yeah, right… he left that to me.

She's got the layers cut and peeled away now. I can see it. Pretty much the mess I expected it to be, and right dead centre, but... different. I'm thinking I know what may have happened here and if I'm right, with luck it just might be okay. God, please, make it be okay. Yes. It will be. It's okay. Sure it will. Liar. Fool.

"Sir. We really need to get him some help. The lock down..."

Yeah Carter, I know that. I know it. All right, yeah, so it's not exactly okay right now, but it's not the fatal wound we expected. My knees hurt, crouching here like this. Just about as much as my neck is hurting from swiveling back and forth at top speed from where the others are keeping an eye on that black unholy hole to… to this. What the hell am I going to do? Where's all that certainty now, smart-ass? Hmh. It's drowning in that sticky mess of congealing blood on the floor here, that's where it is. Nothing like a little bit of it's-alive to punch a big hole in conviction. Shit.

My hand is on my comm switch but I don't know what to do. After taking one to the chest like that it's a miracle he's still alive, but that doesn't alter the bottom line. The base is sealed. We can't risk that thing getting loose. Ah, hell. This is Daniel and he's one of my team, and a friend. But that changes nothing – Oh for crying out loud. Who am I kidding. Yes it does. The bottom line just morphed big time. Push the damn button and spit it out.

"O'Neill here. Call Fraiser. Get a med team through to corridor C1, then lock it all back up after them." Carter's hand goes up to her earpiece as she listens to the tech repeating what I want done. Yes. Med team through the corridors to just outside the embarkation room C1 blast door, and yes, trap them in there. Carter gives her confirmation without even looking at me. It's set. Done now. There's going to be a group of people right outside that door in no time flat. Now all I need to do is figure out how in the hell we're going to either get them safely in here, or the injured safely out there. It's going to have to be option number two. No way I'm giving that thing more people to choose from. Not to mention we really need to get Daniel to the infirmary.

"Sir? Colonel... Daniel just... it looks like he's trying to wake up." What? Carter looks at me and nods toward Daniel. His eyelids are doing a little dance. Oh, no. Damn it. Can't this guy cooperate with me just once? The last thing we need is a conscious, squirming, suffering Daniel when we drag him over to the door. Carter's bending over him, talking right in his face. "Daniel? Hey, Daniel?" Well, shit... stop that, Carter! Don't wake him any more than he already is.

"Damn it, Carter." She's done it; his eyes are open, more or less. Pupils are huge as serving platters and he's looking pretty glazed. No doubt a combination of it being dark in here and he's not really with us, open eyelids notwithstanding. Good. The best thing, short of a deep state of unconsciousness. "He's still out of it. Get him ready to be moved, Carter." She gives him a test jab in the shoulder, near to the embedded glass. She's pushing our luck, but there's nothing. Not even a moan. Your typical good news - bad news scenario here, then, but I'm not sure which belongs to what, exactly. Doesn't matter; it's time we got moving here. I raise my voice just enough so Teal'c and Makepeace can hear me. "We're going to try to clear the wounded out through C1. You guys will need to keep that thing away from the door when the time comes. Think you can do that?"

"Yeah. No sweat." Makepeace is already organizing his men to move the four injured guards to the blast door. I glance over there and see that Teal'c is staring up at the ceiling behind the Stargate. So that's where it is right now.

Holy sh… No, it isn't ! Cold… across the back of my hand… freezing cold...

_________________________

 

21\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
Hey! Listen up. Whoa. Dizzy. I'm okay, I'm okay... no, I'm not... it really hurts. Okay, never mind that. This is important. Jack, the box! An alien, Jack, it's Sylestria; it's here, she's escaped her box... dangerous... you can't let her out of the embarkation room! Jack? Hey! Hello?

Geez. They're both here hovering over me, and they're both ignoring me. Sam? Jack? Down here... right here. Hello? Stop the radio chatter and look over here... radio chatter... what's he saying? Med team? Oh, good. I could really use...

No! Wait! You can't open the door! What, Sam? No... not you too! Listen to me! HeL-Lo, I'm right here. Christ, what's a guy gotta do? Uhm, it sure is cold in here. Feeling, oh, a bit sick. Don't gag... no gagging, it'll hurt too much. Agh, oh God!. Hell. Nobody listens to me, not even me. That sucked. Oh, there. Good. Sam's looking down now.

"Sir? Colonel... Daniel just... it looks like he's trying to wake up." Uh, no, Sam. I'm already wide awake. Got something important to tell you... "Daniel? Hey, Daniel?" I already told you, Sam, I'm wide awake, I'm right here...

"Damn it, Carter." Huh? What does he mean, damn? Jack... hey. Get your grubby fingers out of my eyes, dammit! "He's still out of it. Get him ready to be moved, Carter."

Uhh... hang on just a minute here... move me? Ah, Nooo. No, please don't do that. I really could use something for pain, Sam. Don't... Aghh! Owww! What the hell was that for! Can't you see that great flipping huge hunk of glass in there, Carter?

Okay, wait. This is just too weird. I'm obviously not getting through here. Maybe the only things that are really working are my brain cells. Okay, so, concentrate, now. Make a real noise, or move something... my hand. Move my hand... oh, hurts to breathe; my chest hurts so bad...

Never mind that just, just move... something...

_________________________

 

22\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
The feel of something colder than cold brushing across the back of my hand comes in the same instant as a surprised not-quite-cry from Carter. She hunches over real quick as I jerk my hand away from whatever… wait…

Daniel. I'm looking straight into wide open dark eyes. No 'sort-of' about it any more. Black eyes; enlarged pupils. Huge. It's his hand that brushed mine. Cold. His skin is so… cold… almost like... oh, no way, no way. Is there something still in him? Carter's leaning over him, her face close to his and I'm suddenly feeling like a little caution might be a good thing here. And, yeah I admit it, I'm a bit afraid. Afraid that we've got him back only to find we don't really have him at all. Shit… Carter. I grab her shoulder and yank on her. Not so close, Carter.

But she bats my hand away and looks up at me in such irritation that maybe she's the one I ought to be afraid of. "Sir, just wait." She's bent down over him, talking to him, her hands cradling his face. "Daniel, it's okay. We're here. It'll be all… what?" She bends closer, concealing his face from view for a moment, then swivels her head to look over at me. "He must have been able to hear us, Sir, even though he couldn't respond right away. He just said not to bring the med team." His hand comes up again and pulls weakly on her sleeve, and I can't help but move closer to listen with her.

"Don't… can't… Jack, please…" He's working hard to get the words out. How the hell is he even talking to begin with? He's got a bullet in his chest and a skewered shoulder. "Can't… let her out. It's, she's… bad. Very bad."

Bad? Very bad? Okay, this is definitely our Danny. Thank God. Yeah, Daniel, I got the 'bad' part figured out all by myself already. "It's okay, Daniel. We've got it under control. We're going to get you out of here."

He starts shaking his head back and forth and holy shit if he isn't going to try to sit up. "No... don't understand. P3Y665… she's, she's…"

"Yeah, you just said it. Very bad. Now take it easy here… just stop talking and lay…"

"Sir... wait... Daniel, what about P3Y665? Do you know what this thing is?" Carter's giving me one of those significant looks, one of her 'you know what this means, Sir' expressions that are always completely meaningless to me. Daniel's nod turns into a head-loll as a spasm of pain hits him and his face contorts. Shit. And then she says it. "Sir, you do know what this means, don't you?"

Yeah, Carter, it means he's really going to suffer when we move him. Okay, fine. No. I don't know. Haven't a clue. But I'm sure you'll explain it to me.

"Sir... if Daniel knows what this thing is, maybe he knows how to deal with it."

Of course. I lean over him to ask, but he's heard her and through the pain he's already gritting out an answer. "Tried. Sorry. Guess we messed up. Still alive. Needed... to die. Jack, someone's going to... have to die."

Oh, no, no, not in this lifetime. The only thing around here that's going to... Ahh, what? What did he just say? Holy... I'm only just processing the words, an unwanted interpretation just starting to niggle annoyingly at the back of my mind, when my comm comes to life with a short burst of static. The med team is in place. But, did he just mean what I think he meant? No. Never mind that right now. Time to go, Danny. I tell him so, but he starts shaking his head back and forth and stuttering at me. Yeah, I know. Don't open the door. Don't let it out. He's grabbing at my sleeve, about to have a small fit here. I'd love to assure him, to comfort him, really I would.. but the best thing for him right now is to get him the hell out of here and into the Doc's hands.

"Daniel. Calm down. We won't let it out." I trap his feebly moving arm across his abdomen. "Teal'c! We need you over here! Carter, put your eyes back on and trade jobs with Teal'c."

She's gone, Teal'c's here squatting just to eleven o'clock of Daniel's head, and Daniel is only just coping, fear and pain in his eyes, and shaking all over. I'm feeling a little shaky myself. I just hope we don't shift anything inside him in a wrong direction, don't kill him off here with this little trip. "We gotta get him over to the door. Gently. Wait... where is it, Teal'c?"

He's looking at Daniel, concern in his eyes. "It has not moved, O'Neill. It remains above the Stargate. Daniel Jackson, I am sorry... this will cause you great pain."

There's a strangled noise that might have been the beginnings of a sarcastic laugh come from Daniel, but it turns into a gasp and then a gut-wrenching groan as Teal'c slides his arms under Daniel's shoulders and brings his hands around to grab hold of the front of his waistband. The groan is an outright cry as I maneuver my arms under his thighs. "One... two... three!"

From laugh to gasp to groan to cry... to worse. Oh man. I hate doing this.

_________________________

 

23 SrA Eddie Mason

I killed him.

I killed him... and what am I doing? I'm sitting here, doing nuthin'. I'm responsible. It's my fault. And I'm sitting here doing nothing, like the total waste of space I am.

No... I'm following orders.

Orders. Good little airmen follow orders. Right. Like, orders from a civilian to blow an opening the size of an elephant's asshole right through that alien SG8-wannabe, and a baby brother of a hole right into Jackson's chest. Like, following orders from the man who's gonna eat me alive, orders to sit here on my butt waiting for the next order that's gonna strip me of every hope in life that was ever important to me. Christ, I am an idiot. O'Neill's going to press charges, so as sure as I'm sitting here I'm out of this Air Force and into confinement... and that invisible end-of-the-earth-thing is still free, flitting around threatening everybody... and I'm, what? Following orders?

Screw this. I am so out of here.

I can hear the tech's voice before I'm even all the way down the staircase. Something about waiting for a signal to open C1? What? They're gonna open it up? The guy in the white lab coat – just what is his job here, anyway – barely glances at me, and the tech sergeant doesn't even look at me at all as I come up next to him. The other one, that dark-haired lady, she just gives me a worried look and a strained smile before she turns back to her monitor. They don't know. They don't know that I'm dog shit, persona non grata, destined for lesser things.

Okay. I can work with that. Calm, cool, collected. Gotta come across like I'm supposed to be here. "Okay, so where we at here?" Oh shit! Quick... "Uh, Sir." Okay... that sounded okay, unless of course he noticed that slip up there. C'mon, c'mon... gotta get in there...

"Pardon?" He barely gives me a glance. "Oh. Airman. We're just waiting on Colonel O'Neill's okay to let the med team in." Then it clicks in and he gives me a longer look. "Where's your post? How did you get through to here? Are you supposed to be here?"

Am I supposed to... hell, no. Where? What's he likely to believe? Med team. In C1? "In corridor C1, Sir. I was told to report to assist the Med team, but I didn't make it through before the doors shut. I got caught in C2 and came through to here. I was hoping you could let me into the embarkation room through C2 and I could go across..." Leavenworth, here I come.

He's busy slapping buttons on his keyboard, muttering under his breath as I'm talking, but that last bit gets his full attention. "C2 isn't working, and the embarkation room is off limits anyway. Who are you?"

Fix it. Fix it.. Just keep playing the same card. Maybe he won't notice it's a joker. "I'm assigned under Sergeant Harris?" Best apologetic stupid-dumb-ass-low-class-enlisted look I can scrape up. "I got trapped in C2, here. I've been directed to go to help out the med team." Please don't ask by who, please don't ask...

"See the flashing red light? Hear the klaxon? This area is off-limits to non-essential personnel." Dismissed, as being a moron of no consequence in the bigger picture. He's back playing with his computer.

"Sir?" Okay, listen up here, buster... I need to get in there. I can't just sit around while that thing is doing who knows what to who. Penance. I need to make restitution. "I was ordered to report here, Sir. Permission to go through the control room to the C1 corridor, then, Sir?" He's giving me a look that says he was mistaken... that I'm a whole lot less than a moron of no consequence. But there's a slight nod buried in there somewhere, too. He fusses a bit more over the incomprehensible-looking stuff scrolling on the monitor and mutters something about opening the blast door. Is he talking to me? His fingers shuffle across the keyboard; my feet are doing an imitation on the floor.

I guess he was talking to me; he's gesturing at the revolving red light and glaring at me like he wants to consign me off to the Antarctic. "Well? We are under lock down. I can't keep it open for long." He dismisses me with a wave toward the far side of the control room and I realize he must have already cleared the route down the far stairwell to the C1 blast door. "Have Doctor Fraiser radio to me when you're in place for confirmation on closing the door. Get moving, Airman."

Get moving. I can do that. Rear in high gear. Moving my ass. On my way. Yessir Sir... down the steps, the door is open, go on through, around the slight bend and there they are, a small gaggle of people mostly dressed in white, surrounded by a large gaggle of... stuff. Some folding field stretcher-things, big red boxes, small blue boxes... a rolling utility-type multi-drawer cart that would send an auto mechanic into lust-heaven...

And one very intensely focused lady, looking both annoyed and surprised to see a less than non-com-poop coming round the corner in what was supposed to be a sealed corridor. Must be the Doctor. What's her...? Fraiser. That's it. "Doctor Fraiser, Airman Mason reporting to assist you, Ma'am. The sergeant would like you to let him know I'm here? He needs to close up the corridor?" She raises her eyebrows at me and does it, not bothering to ask precisely who the hell I am and if or why she should care. Her attention is more on the other door than it is on me, anyway.

Part of me is wondering if they really are stupid enough to open that door and risk these people, and another part is hoping this means they've found a way to neutralize that thing. But no way could they have done that, because the damn place is still on lock down and no knife I've ever heard of would even put a scratch on the tension filling this little alcove. I've got this big bubble building in my chest. They're gonna open up that door, expose these people... the thing moves so damn fast... got to be ready for it...

Ready. Be ready. The doctor is ready, or she thinks she is. She's got her M.D., F.R.C.P., her grey stethoscope and her stretchers and her medics and her big red boxes and a look on her face like nothing's gonna stop the advance of modern medicine... dammit if she thinks she's not readier than ready. Her medics think they're ready, too. Steely-eyed determination, muscles bulging under white shirts; hell, they can lift a hundred injured soldiers with a single pinkie finger while stitching a wound and poking butts with hypos and they're gonna do her proud, by God...

Her radio gives a warning, starts a count, and everyone thinks they go from being ready to being completely more-than-ready to go. But they don't have a clue just what they're supposed to be ready for. I do. The bubble is so big it's starting to hurt. No point in telling myself not to be afraid; I'm already starting to shake. But, hey, they're ready. They think they're ready, I can at least try be just as deluded and think so too... so, right, we're all ready...

The door's sliding open. Noise... a grinding, shrieking noise...

_________________________

 

24 Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Okay. Just stick to the plan. We can do this. The Plan: that one, the make it up as you go along plan? That plan, Jack? Crap. This had better work.

One last glance at the sorry gathering to the left-hand side of the blast door tells me just what the first glance did. That, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into Ollie. I'm having serious doubts about getting out of this with everyone intact. We've discovered it's totally disdainful of the guns, and it manages to evade the relatively slow-moving energy streams from the zat pretty easily. The zat doesn't have the range to do the job anyway, as most of the time that thing is up on the ceiling. It really doesn't like Teal'c's staff, but again, even with the increased speed of the blasts, it's capable of moving so blindingly fast that we'd have a lot of trouble hitting it with a staff blast anyway. Carter and Makepeace are tracking the thing. It must know something is up; Carter just reported it's increasingly more restless, flitting around along the ceiling above the Stargate.

Daniel is first in line, laying right next to the door. Teal'c's and my jackets are underneath his back and hips, the arms tied around his front, so the medics can just grab and shuck him on out of here... hopefully without risk of further shifting the chunk of glass pinning his own vest and jacket to his shoulder. He's bleeding a bit more now, after our less than brilliantly planned and executed move to the door. Looks like we managed to rip him yet a bigger hole there when we did that. The four SF's are huddled together just beyond Daniel, and Teal'c and SG3 are ready to start shoveling them all through the doorway.

Carter and Makepeace are set to prevent the thing from moving in that direction. They've got Teal'c's staff; Carter's planning to fire at the ceiling close to the door to keep it from going in that direction. She's ready. Makepeace is ready. Teal'c and crew are ready. Daniel's... okay, yeah, he's ready too. Past ready. Me? I'm not ready. But never mind that. I jerk the goggles back down over my eyes, locate the sonofabitch on the ceiling, and thumb the radio and give the order. Teal'c confirms it... Davis gives us a three count...

Shit! Shit, shit... knew I wasn't ready. None of us were. The door screeches as it tries to slide open along a now-obviously warped overhead channel, Carter and Makepeace are shouting above the noise of the staff weapon and there's two sudden blinding arcs of white light obscuring any view of everything else – Damn! What were we thinking? We can't see it... we can't see anything except an afterimage of the energy bolts from the staff. Idiots!

Teal'c is hollering and there's something confusing going on at the door. White blobs shifting and combining and separating and moving – The door is... fuck! Can't see! I rip the damned goggles off so hard I lose a patch of skin on my temple. No! The door's opened about two and a half feet, and stuck there. Above far too much other yelling from God knows where or who, I can hear a low pitched whine; the hydraulics are trying to do their job but it's obviously not gonna happen. Carter's still hollering at me too, asking can I see it... shit! They've lost sight of it. No, Captain, what do you think? I can't see it because I'm still fucking half blind!

I'm scrambling to the blast door as Carter screams into her radio for Davis to close it up, seal up the door, and Teal'c is shouting back just as loud into his comm to belay that and leave it open. And I've just acquired hearing damage in the ear the earpiece is in. I do some shouting of my own, "Everybody shut the hell up!" and I'm at the door trying to make sense of all the frantic activity and flying bodies there. Now that Teal'c, Carter and the staff weapon are quieter I can make out the source of all the other yelling and my blood turns to ice. God. It's in the corridor. The damned thing beat us. It's in the corridor

There's boxes and people shoving into the gateroom. Teal'c is standing at the door opening pulling and pushing people along, straddling Daniel, obviously trying but failing to protect him from being trampled as blue and red containers and white-clad bodies hurtle through. Teal'c sees me trying to dodge the ones already inside, to get closer, and hollers at me. "O'Neill! It has gone to the stairwell. We must hurry!"

Oh, yeah, no shit 'we must hurry'. There's hands coming from behind me, reaching out and grabbing the containers and hauling them further into the room, away from the doorway. Carter and SG3. I'm just about to bend over and reach forward for Daniel, and a tug on my arm comes along with a voice in my ear. "Jackson's in the goddamn way. We've got to haul his butt out of there."

I'm not sure if I ought to thank Makepeace for the help or slug him for the way he framed the problem. We grab hold of the jackets, Teal'c lifts his foot out of the way, and we pull, a hard yank and long slide... and damn, Goddamn, he's conscious. Daniel lets out a strangled cry of pain and we're painting a gruesome, broad red streak on the floor behind us as we pull him well clear of the doorway.

He's, what? Crying? Shit. Only seen him do that once before, far too recently for my liking. But I don't have time to think about that, to think about just what he's going through that's enough to bring that on. There's more shouting from the doorway and something hits me in the back of the head, really hard. Hurts like hell. The staff. Carter just beaned me in the head with Teal'c's staff. I look up and see her pass it off to Teal'c and goddamn it if he doesn't shove it through the door opening. When he draws his hand back, it's frigging empty. No staff. He's yelling at someone to hurry and suddenly Fraiser pops through the opening, pretty much airborne, like she's been shot out of a cannon, supplies leaping out of her arms and showering everyone as her momentum sends her sprawling to the floor just about at Daniel's side.

I can hear and see Teal'c yelling, "Where is it? You must be precise!" and I don't know what he's doing but I realize he doesn't have his goggles on. No, not just, he doesn't have his goggles on, but, he doesn't have his goggles. Not over his eyes, not up his forehead, not around his neck, not in his hand... not anywhere...

There's an indistinct voice from the other side of the door, a yell, immediately followed by the familiar sound of a staff blast, and a flash of light through the opening. Teal'c is hollering like a bull elephant into his comm for Davis to close the door. Without even thinking about it I echo the order, and I can hear the whine again and the door shudders and starts to move, squealing... and I think I must be seeing things. Because Teal'c immediately shoves himself in its path. But just as quickly he's reached through the opening and is stepping back, pulling his arms back, and with him is coming the ass end closely followed by the rest of someone else.

The door shrieks and dislodges from the point of maximum bind. Closing faster now. Teal'c heaves with his arms and throws his weight backward and the two of them fall on their butts this side of the door just as it sweeps past them and seals. There's a too loud voice yelling right next to me – the same goddamn ear, of course – and an answering one behind me. Makepeace and Carter, looking for it... and I realize how slow off the mark I am and pull the goggles down over my own eyes, sweeping the walls and ceiling.

"It's okay. You won't find it. It's trapped in the corridor." The shaky voice comes from the floor and I look down. I don't need to take the goggles off to figure out who it is, but I do anyway and sure enough, there he is, Missing or Moron or Mastiff or whatever his fucking name is, Teal'c's goggles over his eyes and the staff weapon clutched in his violently trembling hand. The staff weapon in his... shit!

I lunge and grab it from him. "Give me that thing! Carter... confirm it." Just for good measure, I reach out and roughly swipe the goggles from off his face, throwing them toward Teal'c.

"I can only confirm that we can't see it in here so far, Sir." She's still searching, her and Makepeace each walking their own slow recon around the perimeter of the gateroom, goggled heads swiveling every which way. I signal to the other guys, and the rest of SG3 joins them.

There's activity and quiet chatter behind me. I turn my head and see Fraiser and a medic are kneeling next to Daniel, the medic's hands wrapped around a thick wad of already saturated pressure dressings to each side of the hunk of glass still in Daniel's shoulder. Fraiser is bending over talking softly to Danny. She reaches through the layers of fabric Carter cut a hole in, over his chest, and does something to him that makes him arch up off the ground and kick his legs out.

Shit. I think I'll turn back around. Look somewhere else for the moment.

_________________________

 

25\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Twisting my head around, I can see it's him staring at me. The colonel. A hard, steady, hostile glare. Beelzebub just walked in the door. I am dead meat.

Dead, dead, dead. Wait, speaking of dead... Holy shit! Been too wrapped up in trying to catch my breath and pretend I'm not still hyped shitless, to notice what's going on around me. At least, until that piercing stare sent a bolt of fire through my back and made me turn around. And right there, on the ground just past the colonel, is...

Alive? No, can't be, but – But they have him... he's... the medic has, he's... the doctor, she's talking right to him, she's... Shit! He moved! He kicked out and now he's slamming the heel of his foot on the floor and reaching out to grab at her and he's fucking moving – he's not dead he's not I didn't... I didn't... ahh, oh man. My chest is hurting, my throat's closed up; I know I'm doing something stupid here... I don't know if it's laughing or crying, but I don't think I even give a flying fuck.

"O'Neill, we may require his help."

Help? Yeah, please, I need help. It doesn't make any sense, nothing makes any sense. There's a freaking alien, God, a killer alien flying around and Joe was right and I know I killed him, shot him right through the chest and he fell back over the rail. Look. Look! It's just over there. Look... right over there. See? I'll show you, just follow me. Over here? Come here.. right here. See, blood on the floor? This is where it... it's on the rail right there too, see, blood, it's on the rail because I killed him and he fell back...

"His help? Teal'c, he's – Oh, for crying out loud. Mason. Ah, crap. Mason!"

"No!" Something's pulling at me. Let go. Leave me alone! I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't want to do it... he was always real nice – It's grabbing me. My leg. My jacket. Doesn't believe me. I, I'm, God, I'm sorry...

"Mason! Relax, kid. Come on... "

What? Ah, what? How did I get over here? My hands, there's blood on my... the floor; what the hell is going on? O'Neill is trying to pull me back from the blood on the floor and I'm an inch away from bashing my head on the ramp edge above. Oh man, oh man, I think I must have wigged out. Oh God, what a fool. Something tells me I'm not cut out for all this weird alien shit stuff.

"We will need his assistance, O'Neill. Perhaps if he sees Daniel Jackson is alive..."

Who? Me? Oh, no, no. I saw him alive, I saw him skewered then entered by some stinky cold floating alien-thing, and then I killed him. I think I've seen about enough of Dr. Jackson to last me awhile. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's alive... man, you have no idea how glad I am about that, but, I got it now, I'm okay now, I am. I don't think I need to actually, up close and personal, see and hear him suffering to have that finally sink in. And I doubt I'm on his list of favorite people to visit with while you're trying to not bleed to death. Besides, I'm just the wigged out moron new guy who's fucked up everything he's touched today. I think Dr. Jackson is much better off if I stay right here.

The gateroom lights snap on all at once and for a second I screw my eyes shut against the sudden brightness. I open them and sure enough it's O'Neill right here, his hand still full of my jacket and his face... well, just don't look at his face. I swipe my arm across my eyes. Oh good idea, wipe away the evidence, Mason. Maybe then he won't notice you can't hack it. That thought brings a different kind of bubble than before into my throat and I almost choke trying not to burst out into hysterical laughter. Because that'd help a whole lot, wouldn't it.

"Sir. It's definitely not in here." I look up to see Captain Carter just coming to a crouch beside me and the colonel. She's talking to him, but looking straight at me. Well yeah, I already told you the thing was in C1. I almost say it out loud, but that wouldn't be very helpful either so instead I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Hurts. And how helpful is that? The laughter threatens again and I think I'm going nutso here. Captain Carter's still staring right at me, and the look on her face is the opposite of the colonel's. She's... breaking out into a smile? What's there to smile about? Maybe it's not just me; everyone is nuts and Joe was the only sane person in this whole goddamn place. I mean, fuck... going to other planets, bringing back evil aliens?

She's still looking at me while she's talking to him. "He was right, Colonel. It has to be in the C1 corridor. Sergeant Davis reports the stairwell camera went down right after he closed the door, so the staff blast must have driven it back up into the stairwell and it took out the camera, just like it did the ones in here." She reaches out a hand and places it on my arm, and now she's talking directly to me and there's warmth in her voice. "You did a good job, Airman. Dr. Fraiser says you could use a bit more finesse, but she appreciates your pitching arm all the same." She looks back at O'Neill. "She said she felt it brush up against her, Sir. Very cold. She's still a bit shaken and confused about the whole thing, but she's pretty sure Airman Mason saved her life."

The colonel glances at me and then quickly looks away, behind us. "Yeah, well, I think I'll go see what else Fraiser has to say." He starts talking into his radio as he turns to leave, something about getting a repair crew to work on opening C2. Yeah. That would be good. Need to get out of here, and when I do, I'm gonna be the first one in line to stick their head into the crapper and let fly.

He's up and gone, heading over to where she's still bending over Dr. Jackson. I can see they have an intravenous started; the medic is holding the bag up in the air. For just a split second, panic rushes through me and I twist around and surge over onto my butt, leaning toward where they are. I feel like yelling at him that he needs to clamp his hands down on the bleeding, that's the important thing. Not some plastic bag.

The captain's hand follows me around and tightens around my forearm, and her voice is soft and understanding. "It's okay. They have it under control. Ahm, Mason..." When I don't answer or look at her, she gives my arm a bit of a shake and sticks her head right in my face. Can't help but see her. Blue eyes. Not as impressively blue as my brother's or Jackson's, though. Jackson. Blue eyes. Asking me, pleading with me, and finally ordering me. Shit. I scramble to my feet, the urge to do something overpowering, but there's nothing I can do and nowhere to go.

"Mason!" She's still right here with me, standing next to me now, and her voice is firm and commanding. Command... she's an officer and my training kicks in despite everything. I feel my body turn toward her doing the attention thing, hear my voice saying, "Yes, Ma'am," like the good little soldier I used to think I was. But there's no orders... just compassion. "Daniel was conscious and he told us... well, he sort of told us... what went on here. It's all right, Mason. We know you did what you thought you had to. We don't blame you."

I turn to her, stupefaction easily overcoming both training and any scrap of common sense I might have left. "What? You think I'm this messed up because of what you people think of me? Because I was afraid you'd blame me?" She looking a bit surprised, but I don't care. The words keep rolling off my tongue and at this rate, she's going to be a whole lot more than just surprised by the time I get it all off my chest. "What are all you people? Totally insane? You fuck around going to other planets and there's this thing flying around here stinking worse than week old garbage and colder than witch's tits and hey, lady, news flash for you, it kills people! We can't hardly see it, we can't catch it, we can't shoot it... and you're talking to me about if I'm to blame for... for – I never hid that! I told you just what happened, what I did!"

Oh yeah, I'm really on a roll now. Mouth and brain completely disconnected and that's just A-OK okay with me. "Okay, okay, yes, I fucking shot him, I tried to kill him! It was on purpose, and okay, yeah, I panicked. Okay? I panicked! I admitted it straight out, didn't I? Wasn't me who went fucking ballistic about blame. I can't believe this. My God! Is everyone here nuts? This isn't like debating who dropped the ball in the ninth inning. This is serious shit... I killed people and there's a goddamned fucking evil-as-shit alien in the..."

I think my spit flew into her face, because she just winced and ducked her head a bit. Oh Jesus. Stop. Stop and breathe. Get a grip. She stands there staring at me. Oh crap, I did it again. Meltdown. The floor is real attractive about now. Agh. I think I'm going to puke. There's an ominous presence right behind me and a real deep voice comes from over my shoulder, pretty much freezing time. If by some miracle I wasn't before, I am so-so-so dead meat now. "Captain Carter. Do you require assistance with this man?"

"No, Teal'c. Everything is just fine." She reaches out and takes my chin, turns my face so I'm looking straight at her. Her fingers are so warm. "Mason, we know it's a lot to handle. Listen to me here... you did everything you could. Don't blame yourself. We need you here. You've had more contact with this thing than we have."

She understands me quicker and better than I do myself. Okay, so I got it now. It's not their blame that's eating my guts out. I feel like crying, but I've already done too much of the infantile regression stuff since this whole thing began. I get a mental image of myself, all six foot six and two hundred thirty pounds of hairy me, laying in a crib with diapers on, crying for my mommy. I wish. I only wish my mommy was here. No, scratch that. No I don't.

"Very well. Captain Carter, O'Neill and Dr. Fraiser request you report to them." Her eyes widen and she lets go of my chin like it was on fire. She's scared. For all her captain-like control, I can see it now. She's just about as pissed scared as me. She turns without a word and is gone. I watch her head over there and kneel down next to Jackson, on the opposite side from O'Neill and the doctor. Their backs are to me so I can't see their faces, nor can I see much more of Jackson than the top of his head past Dr. Fraiser and his legs sticking out past where the colonel is squatting, holding up the IV bag But I can see Captain Carter clearly, listening intently as the doctor's head nods and her hand waves around and points at Jackson as she talks. And I see the captain swipe at her eyes with one hand as she bends over Jackson and strokes his head with the other.

Dying. He's going to die. I may not have killed him outright when I shot him, but I've killed him all the same. The captain brushes at her eyes again. My chest is going to explode. I can't see this. Look somewhere else for the moment.

"You must come." There's a powerful hand on my upper arm. I'm yanked off balance and propelled forward before I can even get my feet fully back under me. Okay, I might top him by a couple of inches or so, but he's way stronger than me. I have no choice here. I guess I... must come.

_________________________

 

26\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Thank God for one particular possessed-by-an-alien-zombie lurching forward to take on the role of meat in a bullet sandwich. Thank God for through-and-through penetration, velocity reduction, trajectory deflection, and human anatomy.

Fraiser is explaining it all to Carter. Going into a lot more detail than she did with me but I'm barely half listening. All those big words flying at Carter are icing on the cake, and I'm not in the mood for any sweets right now. I already got the gist of it and that's all I really need. Actually, there's two things I really need right about now: one of them is for who's laying on the floor in front of me fortunately still alive to stay that way, and the other is unfortunately locked up in the liquor cabinet at home. There's noises and banging coming from the other side of the C2 blast door; need number one on its way to being fulfilled, I hope.

The medic is trying to open the big blue box-thing with one hand while holding up the IV with the other. I guess the least I can do is help out here, so I reach over and take the IV bag from him. The container is open now. Hey, it 's a new fangled self-contained monitor-defibrillator thing. Will you look at that, a Jump-In-a-Box. God, please tell me we won't actually need to use that thing. Don't want to have to use that... no how, no way.

The medic takes the scissors to Daniel's clothing, extending the cut-away around the hunk of glass, slicing through the shoulder seams of his vest, jacket, and t-shirt and on down the outside of both arms. Daniel doesn't react when the blunted front of the bottom blade jams him hard in the forearm. I do. I jump like it's me just got poked. Then there go the sides, right through the vest lacing and all the way on up to the shoulders. The medic takes the whole front of all three layers away all at once, and starts pasting those little electrode patches with all those attached snaky little multi-coloured wires, onto Daniel's chest.

Carter's realizing now it's not as bad as it seemed, and she's well into her maternal comfort routine. Good. That's good. I think Daniel knows we're here, although it's kind of hard to tell for sure. Judging from the moaning and groaning going on it must hurt like hell. Looks like it should; there's that glass in his shoulder and a ragged, gory hole about the size of a nickel dead centre in his chest. That one's not bleeding much now; he's just starting to swell and bruise up in a patch all around it. A puffed-up red-blue line of bruising heads from the entrance wound on over to the right and up toward his armpit.

There's footsteps and slight scuffing noises and damned if Teal'c isn't dragging Mason over here. They stand beside Carter and both of them stare down at Daniel. The kid looks like he's trying to decide whether to puke up all over the place or bolt and run. Or fall down. Something that feels vaguely like, ah, crap, no, not compassion, can't be, runs through me and I wave the IV bag at him. "Kid. Here. Sit down before you fall down. Take this. Make yourself useful."

He stares at me like I'm the alien. Teal'c shoves down on his shoulder and he folds, his knee bashing Daniel in the hip as he thumps down. I'm about to yell at him, but the jarring seems to have given Daniel that little extra bit of stimulation he needed to focus; he's definitely with us now, blinking up at Sam and saying my name. Not sure if that's an insult or a compliment. Or, which ever for whoever. I shove the IV bag into the kid's hand and without even looking to see if he's with it enough to know what to do with it, scoot around past Fraiser to tell Daniel that, yeah, I'm here. Right here, buddy. God, it feels good to say that to him.

He turns his head toward me, his eyes searching for the source of my voice. He's blinking like crazy, and I'm not too sure he can see me. But his eyes fix right on my face, and a bloodied hand comes up to grab at my sleeve. His mouth is moving, he's working hard at it, but I don't think the croaky, barely recognizable facsimile of a greeting which comes out is quite what he had in mind. He's trying again, a little better at it this time around, and Fraiser stops spitting orders at the medic and torturing Daniel's arm with the blood pressure cuff just long enough to lean over and in no uncertain terms tell him to relax, quit moving his arm around, and not try to talk.

Blecch... I think the face he just made is supposed to be a grin? Could use some work. He licks his lips, and this time does a pretty good job of coordinating real words with his gasping breaths. "Hey. Who... died... and made... her the boss?" I'm trying to decide, as far as inappropriate jokes go, just how far down toward the bottom of the scale that one belongs when his expression goes all serious and he clutches at my sleeve so hard his hand starts to shake. "Jack... don't let it out... Hammond, keep it away."

I tell him it's okay, Hammond is in the infirmary with a bump on his head, the thing is trapped in C1 corridor, everyone is safe for the moment... and he looks pitifully sincere as he tells me what a shame it is he's still alive. "Sorry. Messed up, was too soon; let it get away... did it too soon..." and I think I'm going to bop him one in the mouth if he keeps it up.

My radio comes to life, but I don't like what I'm hearing. They can't fix the door without removing it entirely and replacing both tracks, upper and lower, with new ones. I'm about to tell them to just go ahead and do whatever, when Makepeace's voice comes through, asking them if they're certain if they take it off they'll be able to replace it and get it working reliably. Shit. Who cares? Just take the damn thing off, because – Ohh, wait, the answer... okay, I guess I ought to care; it's a yes, but it'll take no less than four hours to cut any appreciable sized opening through this door so they have a starting point to remove it, another six or so to actually get it off, plus at least twenty-four hours more to obtain and put new tracks and a new door into place. That thing can stay trapped in C1 for a millennium for all I care, but Daniel... four hours... that's too long.

Carter is briefing Fraiser on that, and the look she's getting from the Doc is not encouraging. There's a hoarse voice from down at knee level; Mason is muttering not quite under his breath, something about it all being just too weird. He's upset, pretty shaky at having to sit and watch and listen to Daniel, the man he killed. Daniel tries to lift his head to look to see who's there, but he can't quite do it without jarring the chunk of glass still lodged in his shoulder. He vibrates like a taut piano wire, with the pain, and Fraiser interrupts her doctor-pokey-probey-assessy-thing to glare at him. Which he doesn't notice, because he's still too interested for his own good in trying to see just who it is jerking the IV bag around and sounding as if the world has come to an end.

"It's you... isn't it? You, you saw it, right?" Daniel is stubbornly trying to raise himself up. He bats at me when I try to push him back down, and lets fly with a particularly pathetic version of the "Jack please, " ploy I know and don't-love so well. I know he isn't going to give up on it just because Fraiser is getting fed up, so I give in and slip in right behind him, spread my legs, and slide my arms under his shoulders to grab him by the belt. As gently as I can, I ease him up to lean against me. Fraiser lunges forward and clamps her hands to the dressings around the glass, stabilizing it, giving me a look that would fast-freeze a flame. But her voice is soft and reassuring for Daniel, telling him to just breathe through it as he bites back against whatever rises up in his throat, gags a few times, and rests his head back against my chest.

Fraiser warns me about probable cracked ribs and a definitely fractured sternum and possible cardiac contusions and oh crap, about the location of a miraculously still intact sub-something-avian-artery in his shoulder right about where the glass is lodged. Oh, shit. Okay, this was so, so, so not such a good idea then. I can feel Daniel shaking against me and for a second I think about laying him back down, but his hand clamped over my own tells me he wants to stay just where he is. Besides, now she's got me so afraid that I think twice even about taking a deep breath of my own, in case my chest expanding shifts him. The medic has the monitor all hooked up now, and he and Fraiser stare at it like it holds all the secrets to the universe. I move just a bit, taking Daniel with me, the lines go all ziggy-zaggy, and Fraiser turns that glare onto me again.

We sit here like this, me barely daring to breathe and Daniel barely able to, while Fraiser and Carter punish us both with these pinched up, disapproving looks on their faces. Yes, ladies, yes, okay, I feel like a fool. First some alien-thing tries to kill the guy, then Mason, and now I just took a stab at it. It takes Daniel a couple of minutes to get over the worst of it, but it's worth the wait because once the pain settles his breathing actually seems easier than when he was laying down. Which makes me feel a bit better... not a lot, but, a bit.

Fraiser is broadcasting strong enough 'seriously pissed off' signals that everyone in the whole base is likely looking over their shoulders in fear. Daniel takes one look at her and, as calmly as a man in his position can manage, says, "Hey, Doc... if you want a shot at killing me, you're gonna have to take a place in line... just like the rest of us." I almost laugh out loud at hearing my own sentiment so glibly expressed by my victim, but there's a choking noise come from Mason. He obviously doesn't know our bounce-back Daniel at all, because he's staring at him like Daniel's just come up with the most outrageously in-bad-taste thing anyone's ever said, anywhere.

Well, I guess from Mason's point of view, actually, it is pretty outrageous. Far too close to home to be tolerable, I guess. I glance down there to see Mason's looking totally shocked over Daniel's flippancy. Hell, over Daniel, period. I have this sudden, unexpected urge to reassure the kid –

Shit. What the hell's wrong with me?

_________________________

 

27\. SrA Eddie Mason

Oh man, oh Jesus. I don't believe what I just heard. That clinches it. The deal is sealed, the writing's on the wall, the horse in the barn: these people are completely crazy. Nuts. Jackson included. God, and he seemed so normal when I was up on the outside gate.

As if it all didn't seem bizarre enough before, now it's worse. It's like my mind is going numb or something. Not even able to try to make sense of anything anymore. I'm staring down at the guy I did my best to kill, watching him bleed, seeing him suffer what I did to him, listening to him joke – make a fucking joke – about it all while there's still a man-eating alien just the other side of that door and everything seems so damned surreal I think my brain's jumped the tracks. Derailed.

Jackson is rolling his head, his eyes searching out... God, no, not me, not me. Shit. Me. He's asking me the same thing he did before. "You did see it, right?" Oh, yeah, but I wish I hadn't. I want to go home. I only realize I must have just grunted or done something else that means yes, when he nods at me and continues, "Okay. Good. Do you think... you could follow it, see it, if we... we got it to do it again?"

Got it to...? What's he... oh, no no no. Do it again? Do that... again? I can't keep it in, it just explodes out of me. "What! Are you fucking crazy!? Do it again? What the fuck are you? The king-shit sado-masochist of the universe?"

There's a strong hand on my shoulder plus a warning growl, and if I could grab the words and stuff them back in I would. Captain Carter is looking at me wide-eyed, her mouth clamped shut in a straight line, and the colonel, his cheek laid against the top of Jackson's head, narrows his eyes into little slits as he stares at me. I don't think they understand what Jackson's just asked me; all they know is I just yelled at him. Any awareness of what came just before that must have gone right out the window the second I raised my voice at him.

But Jackson, he's not reacting to my outburst like them. He just gives a small shake of his head and asks it again. "Would you be able to, to... track it taking over, if we got it to do the same thing?"

The penny drops. I see and feel it happen. Captain Carter's eyes almost pop out of her head and she transfers that clamped-up look from me to Jackson. There's a low grunt from Teal'c and an easing of the pressure he's put on my shoulder. And O'Neill... he straightens up with a jerk and stares down at Jackson as if he only just realized he was even there.

O'Neill is so surprised I don't think he knows he's even moved. Jackson sure knows it, though. Hurting big time from the quick shift in position. I'd say something, but just like my feet before, my mouth and my brain suddenly don't want to cooperate with my intentions. Luckily, Dr. Fraiser is more in tune with Jackson than the rest of them are right now and she pokes the colonel in the arm, getting his attention, and indicates Jackson with a slight tip of her head. The glove on her hand leaves a bloody mark on his sleeve. A small, smudged, half-circle. Going quickly from deep red to a muddy brown on the dark green fabric. I can't tear my eyes off it.

Jackson's voice isn't nearly as strong as it was just before. "No, no... wait. Listen. The historical records on P3Y665; the only way to trap the, the... had to kill the host before it got out... trap and kill the – Jack, it's the only way. It's... there's no other way... it's all we have..."

"What? So you're saying we need to let that thing take over one of us and then we gotta lock them up in the box?" Colonel Makepeace? Yeah. I didn't know Makepeace was even over here. "Sounds pretty typically harebrained to me, Jackson." O'Neill gives Makepeace a glare that's even worse than the one he gave me.

"No... no, we probably couldn't... get them... into the box." I can barely hear Jackson's answer. He's fading on us here. Makepeace snorts, like he's thinking he's just been proven right or something.

"But..." Carter interrupts herself with a thoughtful look, and her eyes widen. "Okay, you say the legend indicates the only way to kill the alien is to have the host die. But Daniel, you have to have seen the corpse in there."

Yeah, well, even if he didn't see it, which I'm sure he did before he got clobbered by that alien thing, he'd have to know it's there. It's hard to miss. I understand what she's getting at, and I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that his suggestion about the way to kill it is wrong. O'Neill must agree, because he's saying what I would say if I had the cooperation of my tongue and any guts at all left.

"She's got you there, Daniel. That is one very dead person in there, and we still have one very live alien flitting around. So, kids, while it's nice to know killing one of us may not be the solution after all, just where the hell does that leave us?"

"No, no, umm, yes. Yes, I saw it. But that doesn't mean... doesn't mean anything. Jack, the legend, it says..." Jackson's voice is barely above a whisper, the words riding on short, laboured breaths and he can't finish it. The effort he's putting into staying with us makes my knees weak. Me. I did this to him.

Makepeace chimes in again, just for good measure. He may have helped me up off the floor in the other corridor, but I'm getting the idea he might be a bit of a son of a bitch. "The hell with legends. It means the alien survives the death of the host. That's what it means."

Jackson's pretty upset. He tries to say something, but instead just lets out a long, low moan that tells everyone just what he's going through and... ah hell, something's happening now that makes me feel like the outsider of the century, makes something rip apart inside my chest and my eyes heat up and sting. Shit. I can feel the lump forming in my throat as I see O'Neill tip his head forward and give the side of Jackson's face a small nudge with his nose and cheek.

The message is clear: it's okay. Compassion, strength, support. Friendship. It'll be okay. There's a small nod in return, and I know Jackson gets his meaning and is sending a message of his own. Thanks. I'm okay. I can do this. It's okay.

Fuck. No, it's not okay. It isn't. I can't do this.

_________________________

 

28\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Damn that Makepeace. Fine, I understand what's he saying and I can't say I disagree. But you'd think he'd find a nicer way of saying it. There's something with Mason; he's shuffled around to sit with his back to us. Can't say as I really care what's provoked that, just so long as he keeps proper hold of that IV bag.

Daniel is shaking his head – well, sort of; it's more like just giving up on any semblance of control and letting it loll from side to side on my chest. I figure it's purposeful, though, because he's also doing the 'no, no' thing by flopping his free hand around in his lap and I can feel him breathing it out, trying to actually say the word. It gets lost in the midst of a low groan, though.

"All right. That's it. The hall of legends is closed. Everybody go home." Fraiser has had enough. She's stuffing the earpieces of her stethoscope into her ears as she's shooing Carter to pull back from Daniel, and she leans forward and listens to his chest. She moves the thing up nearer to his shoulder, then right next to the hunk of glass, listening intently, and her frown deepens. Her eyes dart to Daniel's face, then back down to his chest. She pulls off the stethoscope and sits back, and I know there's a momentous decision on the way. Daniel does too, because he starts to try to reach out for her, shaking his head in denial and whispering her name. He's got something he desperately wants to tell us, and he doesn't want her to shut him down quite yet.

She's having none of it. "No, Daniel. Don't even try." Hah! You'd think she'd know him better than that by now. She turns to me. "So our chances of getting him out of here anytime soon are...?"

I key the comm and ask how they're doing with getting a person-sized hole cut through that door. Yeah, that door – the one Siler is now reminding us has a full six inch thick core of layered steel, specifically designed to withstand exactly what they're trying to do to it. I look over at Fraiser and simply shake my head, no, not good, and she closes in on her impending decision with a vengeance, turning to her medic and rattling off what she needs. A second IV started. Oxygen. No, never mind; didn't bring any. A thora-something set-up. Well then, improvise with what's in the emergency kit. Make do. Non-narcotic analgesic. Local anaesthetic. A sterile drape. New gloves. Skin prep. That last grabs my attention but good. What's she up to?

Sure enough, Daniel is still trying. His fingers dig into my hand and he manages to gasp out a few words. Not many, just a couple-three-four – okay, maybe six, max. – but enough to gather in the rapt attention of all of us. "No. Interred alive. Sylestria. Escaped... alive."

Shut into that box, while alive? Who? Sylvester? Isn't that a big black cat? An incredibly stupid black cat? I understand what he's trying to say. That Sylvester person was locked in the box while alive, and the alien left him, her, whatever, before death. The thought of being trapped in there like that, suffocating to death with that thing hanging about, turns my stomach. I'm not the only one not very appreciative of that particular horror. Carter's "Oh God" is almost unrecognizable her voice is so strangled, and Fraiser has blanched almost as white as Daniel.

I realize what he's really, bottom-line, trying to say underneath what he actually said. And, no. No frigging way. I won't accept that anyone's going to have to die here to kill off that thing. Piss. Damn. Crap. Hell. Shit. Did I miss any? Yeah, yeah I missed the grand poobah of them all, Fu... huh? Carter?

"Yes! Okay! P3Y665!" Boy, she recovers quickly. Carter leans forward, her hand looking for Daniel's but ending up clawing at mine instead. "Daniel! I remember now. Isn't that where we found evidence of a died-off Greek-offshoot culture? There was a story... something about treason?"

He's nodding, but he's having too much trouble breathing to talk He barely manages to get out something about computer files before he gives up even trying, and Carter is immediately on the comm to Davis, asking him to access Daniel's translation files associated with the mission to P3Y665. Daniel is gasping like a fish out of water, mouth and throat and chest working hard with little reward, and as for me, I'm getting mighty alarmed here. Breathing is scary. I can handle bleeding and guts hanging out and lopped off limbs, but people having trouble breathing is really scary.

The medic is scrambling around and Fraiser's busily filling this huge syringe, with attached honking huge needle, with fluid from a big vial. I know what that is. Been stitched up enough times to recognize a vial of xylocaine when I see it. She moves over to a handier position and starts playing around with Daniel, injecting it directly into him around where the glass is embedded. She's having some macabre medical fun, rotating the needle, moving it around, pulling it in and out and pushing it back and forth in him as she depresses the plunger, and he's gone an even deadlier white than he already was, hissing and gasping and weakly kicking out with his legs like it hurts, ohh, a whole big, big bunch.

Obviously I'm not the only one this bothers. Carter is looking away and I hear a snorty-noisy inhalation come from someone else. It's Mason. Had to turn and look, eh, boy? "What are you doing? That's... you're hurting him..." He's saying what I have on the tip of my tongue, but in a much nicer way than I would have if he hadn't beat me to it.

Fraiser ignores him and with one hand holding Daniel's arm out from his body some, she transfers her efforts to a spot somewhere not far south of his underarm, injecting more of the local there. She looks up and snaps out a "Well?" to her medic. He gives her a slightly panicky glance, mumbles something, and fiddles faster with what looks like a couple of catheter collection bags, some sort of tubing, some clamps, lots of waterproof tape, and a bottle of saline. He holds up some sort of makeshift linked-bag-system-thing and she nods brusquely, mumbling, "that'll work" under her breath. The medic looks relieved and reverts to his usual self-confident behavior, bustling around getting a stack of supplies ready for whatever she has in mind to do.

She's done torturing Daniel now, hands away the mostly empty syringe, and sits back on her heels frowning at the monitor. I can't help it. "Well? " I echo both the word and her impatient tone of voice and she glances at me, annoyed at first, then her expression softens.

"It's okay, Colonel. It was local anaesthesia. It stings, but it will help with the pain when I..." She frowns again, staring at the monitor, and mumbles, "Some ectopics and T wave depression." She looks thoughtful for a minute and my heart is jumping right along with all those jiggy lines. Is there something wrong with Daniel's heart? Maybe the bullet didn't stay in one piece, or didn't deflect along his ribs quite like –

Fraiser suddenly announces, "Okay, just some minor irritability," and bends over Daniel, taking his face in her hands and speaking softly to him. "Daniel? The glass has punctured the muscle and punched a small hole through into your chest cavity. There's both air and blood leaking in, putting pressure on your lung. That's why you're becoming increasingly short of breath. We don't know how long we're stuck in here, so we're going to take care of it now, okay? We'll give you some pain killer before we start."

Oh, yeah, now she offers the drugs. After she let him sit here for the last fifteen minutes in pain and then did the archaeologist excavation thing with the honking huge needle. Carter breaks into my thoughts with a speculative comment about punctured lungs and sucking chest wounds in general and hey, in particular, if that's the case here shouldn't Daniel have asphyxiated by now. Christ. Who raised that girl to be like this, anyway?

Fraiser is fussing with putting new gloves on. "No, the point of penetration is distal to the outer margin of the lung, Sam. It's very unlikely there's a lung puncture. I strongly suspect if the glass entered the chest cavity through the muscle initially, it formed a reasonably functional seal on its own. But there's been considerable movement since then, so that's not the case anymore."

The medic has started a second IV and is injecting something, going real slow with it, into the port in the line. I can feel Daniel start to relax against me before the syringe is even empty. Fraiser is still officiously chattering away and I find myself – incredibly, unbelievably enough – actually interested in what she's telling us. "The air leak isn't huge, and we might be able to control it by dressing around the glass... but there's bleeding into the chest cavity as well, and it's going to be a while before we can get him out of here. I'm have to deal with both problems now, to both relieve the pressure and prevent any further compression of the lung."

Okay, I understand now. She's going to remove the glass and seal the hole with a proper pressure dressing. And that double-baggie-creation is a sealed system to attach a drainage tube to; she's going to put in a chest tube to drain off the blood. Okay. Been there, had that done. Not a biggie. Stab, jab, bam, a dubious thank you ma'am. No more hole, no more air sucked in; blood drained out, no more pressure on his lung.

Right. Sounds like a damned good plan. I hope.

Oh, for crying out loud, Daniel... don't you ever stop? What is it now? What?

_________________________

 

29\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
It's only just now starting to sink in. Even though it's not really all over with yet – there's still an evil man-killer flying around and we're all still trapped here in the gateroom – I'm clueing in now that it's pretty much all over for me. I'm just window dressing here. It's up to these people to deal with it all, not me. I don't have anything to do anymore except sit here and hold up these IV bags until my arm gets so numb and my shoulder starts to burn so bad that I can't do that any more. I suppose it'd be easier if I just stood up... but even though my mind is starting to understand I'm all done here now, I made it, I'm alive and okay and I don't have to face that thing again, my legs don't seem to believe it yet. No way will they hold me up for long; my knees still feel just as weak as they did when I – No, never mind. Don't think about that.

The Doc says Jackson will be okay. It was scary when he started kicking out like that, my back being turned and all so I didn't see why, but now I know what's going on. She'll get him all fixed up. They'll get a hole through that door in a few hours and then they'll take him and the other guys to the infirmary and everything will be okay for them. There's not a whole lot of activity going on over there where the medics are dealing with the others. Every so often one white-shirt or other comes over and snags a word with the Doc or something from one of these boxes, but overall it's pretty quiet. Not nearly so much fuss as there is right here with Jackson. I'm hoping that's a good sign; that it means they aren't too bad off.

A few of the guys are laid out on blankets. One of Makepeace's men is over there helping out. The other two are keeping tabs, and weapons-at-ready, on the one remaining guy-thing from SG8. He's over there practically plastered up against the C1 door, staring like he can see straight through the door at the ceiling of the corridor or something. Teal'c went off a few minutes ago and I saw him doing something with the dead... sitting cross-legged, unmoving with his eyes closed, next to each body in turn. When he got to Joe, I had to turn away to keep myself from bursting into tears. Done too much of that already. He's with Harris now, taking a bit longer than he did with the others.

Captain Carter is talking to the control room again, more about how to locate some computer files. Something about Dr. Jackson's translations. Hey... it hits me all of a sudden that's what Dr. Jackson must have been doing down on the ramp with that box before all this started. He must have been reading those squigglies on the side of the box. Wow. That is so cool; really cool he can do that, actually understand that stuff.

I'm catching on real good now that this guy is something more than just a run of the mill civilian advisor. Up on the main gate and at the elevator, I just thought of Jackson as some kind of consultant, nothing real special... nice as all get-out, his friendly 'good mornings' and 'see you tomorrows' a refreshing change from the usual military 'you-are-invisible-to-me' treatment, but still nothing to write home about. But today I saw him all geared up, and how he dealt with being abused by that other guy over the box and how Sgt. Harris deferred to him... and I saw him willing to die to save everyone else and he thanked me as I killed him. No wonder Colonel O'Neill wanted to rip me apart with his bare hands.

My new understanding of just who and what Jackson is forces me to turn and look at him, and I'm just about swamped by shame. Ashamed... that I turned my back on him before, just because I was too guilty and scared and stupid to face up to what he can't turn away from. He's still hurting and all tensed up, but the medic is injecting more of the drug and I can see Jackson start to sag down some. There's still something got him juiced up, though... he's working hard, struggling to tell the colonel something, plucking at the colonel's arm and turning his face up to him. Something about C1, I think? I don't know, it's hard to tell. He's really short of breath and it's painful to watch him struggle like that. Like the coward I am I want to turn away again, to pretend I never noticed, but there's no way. Not again. I won't be turning my back on him again, dammit.

He's all nestled into O'Neill, snugged up between the colonel's legs and held sitting up against his chest by the colonel's arms around his waist – and it makes me realize there's even more to Dr. Jackson than all I learned in the last hour or so. It's obvious all these military people – the colonel and the captain, Teal'c, the Doc, and even to some extent, I figure, Makepeace – they value this guy beyond just his status, his smarts, and courage, and they don't hesitate to show it. And in the military, well, hell, that's a real big deal.

Just look at O'Neill sitting there like that, calmly accepting not only command of the whole situation but also responsibility for getting a team member through the pain. I wanted to be an officer – hell, a freaking General – some day. I wanted to go to school and get a degree in something, in anything, so I could become an officer. I had plans. I thought I was going to be somebody... somebody who could make a difference, somebody worthwhile. Somebody like O'Neill.

I was wrong. I was stupid and naive. Even if all this had never happened, if I wasn't doomed to be kicked out on my can and probably even imprisoned, no matter what I did or how far up I got I would never really have been a somebody. I didn't even know what that meant. But I do now. It takes more than just following a path to become a somebody.

I'm not ever going be anything but a big nobody. Never was.

Dr. Jackson, Colonel O'Neill... they're somebodys. Me? What a joke.

_________________________

 

30\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

What about C1? Where... where is what? Daniel, ah crap, I don't understand.

I don't need to say that out loud; he can tell I'm not getting it and he's starting to look pissed off under all that discomfort. But I say it out loud anyway and Fraiser gives me the evil eye again, but hey, it's not my fault the guy won't shut up. And don't tell me I'm contributing to it, Doc, because even if I lied, if I told him yeah, I got it he can stop now, we both know he wouldn't.

I look over at Carter and she just shrugs. She didn't catch it either. Figures. She's a lot further away from him than I am. If the words get lost traveling the eight inches from his mouth to my ear, they sure as hell won't make their way over to her. The medication is all on board now and I doubt Daniel is going to be able to even try for much longer... and I'd really like to be able to reassure him that yeah, I hear him and it's all okay, before Fraiser distracts him with her nefarious deeds. Carter's no help even if she did move on closer; she's busy on the comm about the files, anyway. Mason, though... he's leaning forward, his face all scrunched up in concentration as he stares intently at Daniel. Not sure how to feel about that. Last time that guy stared at Daniel, he tried to blow him to kingdom-come.

Okay, yeah yeah, right, give the guy a break and all that. Fine. Maybe he can figure out what Daniel is trying to say. I look at him and raise my eyebrows, and the kid jerks back like I just launched a dagger at him. Almost drops the IV bags. Geez. How helpful.

The medic pokes Daniel in the shoulder beside the glass, and Daniel doesn't even flinch. Just keeps whispering my name and something else I can't make out. Fraiser gives a quick nod, and the medic starts peeling wrappers off stuff. He hands her a scalpel. Shit. She may be ready, Daniel's shoulder may be numbed up and ready, but I don't think I'm ready for this.

"Colonel, I'm going to insert a chest tube first. He'll need to be sitting up fairly high for the collection system to work safely. I hope you aren't getting tired, because you'll need to both hold him really still and stay just as you are for the duration..."

There's an annoyed squawk and quick movement, and suddenly Makepeace is unwilling keeper of the IV bags. Mason is clambering on over here. I'm about to do a lot worse than Makepeace's squawking at the jerk but he moves past me and I feel him jam up behind me. The muscles of his back and shoulders tense against me, forming a wall of solid support. Hey. Okay, so it's not a bad idea. The angry words on the tip of my tongue disappear in a quick swallow; he's right on the money here... it feels much better. I was already getting a sore back holding Daniel up like this, and if he starts to struggle at all when Fraiser starts digging her holes in him, well, it wouldn't be easy. Mason is so tense it feels like he's made of concrete, but as I lean back into him, accepting his offer, I can feel him relax some.

Fraiser gives him a quick nod of approval. "Great. That'll help. Airman, can you scoot this way a little and sit up straighter? Colonel, go with him... I need Daniel to be sitting up as straight as possible." We do it, managing to get Daniel straightened up, but Daniel isn't happy about it. He starts gasping at me, trying again to say whatever it is that's so important to him, lifting one hand as if to ward off Fraiser and her scalpel.

"No... Jack. C1. Wait. Where.... where... can't leave it... the, the..." He fades off, unable to coordinate his breathing with talking, not able to take in enough air to get it all out.

"Why? What's wrong with that?" Mason's voice from right behind me, aimed almost right into my ear – yeah, the same damned ear – is loud, the question sharp. I have no idea what he's talking about. What's wrong with what?

Daniel is nodding against me, clearly glad someone is finally responding to him with something other than a shush or an ignorant, huuh-whaat. He tries to choke out a few more precious words, much to Fraiser's annoyance. She gives a nod to her medic and the guy starts scrubbing at Daniel's side below his underarm with a pre-op sponge. Daniel shifts his eyes just long enough to shoot what's obviously intended as a glare in her direction, and he's trying it again.

"Changes... shape. C1. Grids... in C1." The medic takes Daniel's arm by the elbow and holds it up out of Fraiser's way. Daniel gives as strong a yank as he can, trying to pull his arm free. "No! Listen... to me. Please, can get... God... out, please..."

There's a big jerk behind me – no, the other kind, the verb kind this time – and Mason half turns, jarring Danny and I, which doesn't earn him any points from both me and Fraiser. He starts chattering away excitedly. "It changes shape! Yes, it got all skinny and long and stuff when it went into you and it got all bunched up and thick and smaller when it killed Joe." I can feel his head swiveling around, and he bops me in the back of my head with his as he suddenly looks up at the ceiling. "Oh, shit! Yes! The grids... the covers! That was on the security layout they gave me to study... right, you're right!"

What the hell is he talking about? Daniel is practically sobbing, his head nod all disorganized, almost more like a violent tremour than anything. I stare up at the ceiling wondering what the goon is looking at – Oh Holy Crap! Ohh hell. Oh my God... Carter! Teal'c! Everybody, damn it... the urge to surge to my feet and scream at everyone to, to... to something, is close to overpowering. Only the feel of Daniel trembling against me stops me from actually leaping up and running around the room in a state of near panic. As it is, I'm not very successful with my tone of voice. Carter's name comes out as a loud bellow and she just about drops her radio as she jumps 'round to face me. Daniel shrinks in my arms, and Fraiser just swore at me... I'm sure I just heard a very bad word come from her, but I don't have time to marvel over that brand new experience.

I have to take a few deep breaths before I can speak in anything other than a cavernous roar. Control. Need control; we have some serious shit to think about here. "The ventilation grids, Carter." I gesture with my head toward the heavy mesh grids over the vent shafts located along the east and west walls where they join with the ceiling. "Get back on the comm. Warn the control room."

She looks confused. "But, Sir... it couldn't get out of the gateroom, so it must not be able to..."

Damn it, Carter. Daniel and Mason immediately join my heartbeat in outer space. Simultaneously, Daniel starts to flop around and gasp alarmingly, Mason twists his head around and is hollering at her that the one in the C1 corridor doesn't have the same fine steel grid over it, and my gut feels like it'll explode with the just-realized urgency of our situation. Crap! No wonder Daniel's been so persistent. Fraiser curses like a sailor again, under her breath. I swear it. I heard her. Really.

Carter's eyes go big as saucers as she activates the radio and almost shouts into it. I can hear Davis's response through my earpiece where it's stuffed under my jacket collar. Good. So we know that thing hasn't gotten through the standard open grate in C1 and made its way into the control room. Wait... well, at least, we know it probably hasn't visited the control room, anyway. As for getting through the grate... damn it all to hell. What do I do now? I need to figure out for sure where the freaking thing is, but I don't know how to do that.

Daniel weakly flops around again, whispering at me, more incoherent than anything. He's about at the end of his rope here. But this time I've got it, I've figured it out for myself and I'm on it before he's even finished. "Tell them to close all the ventilation baffles to the outside, Carter. They'll need an SF team to sweep the base using infrared goggles. And get a crew working on putting some sort of fine mesh over all the vents anywhere there's people."

So just who is it we've really trapped? What a fucking joke this turned out to be. Just for good measure, more for the benefit of trying to bolster my slim grasp on the situation than anything else, I add the obvious. "Keep all the blast doors closed except to allow the sweep team through." The medic raises Daniel's arm again, Fraiser tells me she's going to begin, and I can't quite keep the frustration over this whole mess and the fear for Daniel from my voice as I glance over at C2 and spit out the last of it, "And get that goddamned door breached and get us the hell out of here!"

And suddenly Daniel's having an out and out hissy fit.

_________________________

 

31\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
No! Jack, no, don't do that. You don't get it... you can't do that!

Ahh, God, can't say it, can't get it out... have to get it out. I can think, I can see, I can feel – oh, hell yes, I can feel – but I can't talk and that's what I need to be able to do the most right now. Okay, okay, so use what means I do have available. I can move, sort of. So get moving; kick, squirm, grab, whatever it takes and the hell with the cost. I have to make him understand. They can't do that, they have to –

Ohh! Oh no! Can't breathe. Hurts. Pain in my chest, so big. An explosion that won't end. Pressure. No air. Please... breathe, need air. No, don't panic. Think, think of what's most important here... gotta tell Jack. Jack, don't. Oh! Breathe. Hurts! Shouldn't have moved like that. Jack. Please, Jack, don't do... what? Do what? Breathe, concentrate on breathing. Jack. Don't, don't, ahh... what? Nothing. I don't know. Nothing. Oh, I'm afraid. Panic. Need to breathe. Nothing more important than...

Agh! Sharp pain in my side, burning, boring into me. Something... what? Voices. Someone talking, no, not talking – Yelling. Angry with me. God, I'm sorry... I did something wrong? What? Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to. What? Move? No, no, don't move. Mad at me, telling me not to move. What, are you nuts? Fuck that. Have to move, to get away, escape this pressure-pain in my side boring through into my chest. Get away, pull away. Can't breathe. Need to... I need to... I need. Oh God, please help me I don't want to die... I need...

Wait. What? On my face. What? I hear... Daniel, relax – Me, I'm Daniel, isn't that me? Daniel? Yeah, that's me... talking to me. Slow down; breathe. Hands on my face. Telling me to breathe. Oh God, woman, I wish I could... breathe. Air. Breathe. In. Getting air in. Breathing. Okay, I understand now. Slow down. Don't panic. Be still and slow it down. Getting air in now. Getting better. Pressure lifting from my chest... well, some, anyway.

With the realization I can actually breathe, the panic ebbs and awareness of the pain in my side and my chest blossoms again. Sharp pressure that extends from my side deep into me, deep into my chest. And a dull throb and slow burn running from the centre of my chest up into my shoulder. The feel of something heavy both inside and outside, just under my arm. But it's okay. Manageable. I'm not going to suffocate after all; the rest of it is acceptable. I can live with it. Yeah, right, I can live with it... that thought seems somehow very funny, and I can't suppress the snort of insane laughter. And wow, hold on now, that really hurt.

Dr. Fraiser's hands are still on my face. What's she saying? Can't see her... where... why can't – Oh. Open your eyes, nutbar. Look at her. There, yeah, that's her all right. Looks pissed off. Sorry. I freaked out on her, I know I did. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm back now. I try to acknowledge it, to say I'm sorry and that I'm okay now, well, sort of okay, but the very best I can manage is some indistinct little movement of my head. Or at least I think I just moved my head?

She looks away from me, glancing over her shoulder. "How is it draining?"

"It's patent. Getting on to about two hundred in there. Already slowing down some."

Okay, so who that hell is that? What's going on? I don't know that voice. It's not Jack. I can feel Jack behind me, holding me... in fact, I can feel him pretty much crushing my hands in his. Add one more ouch to the list.

"Okay, that's good. You can give him some more analgesic, half-dose, IV."

"Already drawn up and set to go, Ma'am."

Ohhh, pain killers. Okay, yeah, that'll work. I can handle that. No... Jack has a monopoly on my hands... ouch, something burning, up my arm.

"Good. Daniel..."

Uhh, it sure would be nice if... maybe if I can get my mouth and my voice to work, I can ask Jack to loosen it up just a bit? Tell him to – Wait, wasn't there something.... tell him something, important ..?

"Daniel, the hard part is all done. Look at me here."

Something important. Think. Something, before my brain took a detour through the dark forest. What was it? Okay, we're in the gateroom, it's, what, Thursday? No. Who cares. That's not it. My chest hurts. And my shoulder. My hands are crushed.

"Daniel! Here, come on, are you with me here?"

Oh! Hello. Right. She's back, her face stuck right up close to mine. Where'd she go before? Never mind, she's back now and it looks like she's expecting me to say or do something here. Certainly wouldn't want to let her down, not after she just.. she just... huh?

"Daniel, the tube is in. It's working just fine. I know it hurts, but your breathing is going to improve even more over the next little while. It'll be okay. Daniel?"

Ah, right. She just saved me from asphyxiation. Right. Tube, a chest tube, because... because... oh, I know this one, I know the answer here but somehow my mind has gone pretty fuzzy and I'm having to dig really deep for it. Oh, okay! Yes! In the gateroom, Jack holding me up – and yes, it is Thursday – because the glass broke and there's a chunk of it in my shoulder and I couldn't breathe... couldn't breathe, can't breathe – Wait. Oh God, I remember, I was shot in the chest! Breathing! Hurts to breathe... wait... something more important? Yes, yes, the alien, in the other corridor... oh my God, Jack, listen, oh please, have to breathe and tell Jack, have to, oh, hurts... breathe...

"Doc... he's starting to..."

"I can see that, Colonel. Daniel! Relax, it's okay... everything is okay now..."

No! Nothing is okay! I'm back now. I know what's going on. I know what they're doing and I can hear it now, I can hear the faint noise of the hydraulics as they keep trying it, as they work on the door trying to get it open. I have to tell Jack. I have to tell him. There's only one thing we can do.

They have to stop.

_________________________

 

32\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
I think I'm going to barf. I don't know which was worse, closing my eyes knowing what was going on – hearing the suffering and feeling the jarring and bumping of O'Neill against me as he tried to control Jackson – or opening my eyes and cranking my head around to actually catch a glimpse of her shoving that tube into him. But it's done now. Even though I feel sick and my neck has a crik in it from my head being twisted around like this, I can't take my eyes off the blood running into that collection bag. That's what I did. Can't turn my back on it. I said I wasn't going to turn my back on him again, and facing up to this is part of that.

He's alive now, so it's a good bet that if I hadn't have shot him when the alien left him, it might have left him still alive. So all this is because of me, and if facing up to it means I have to choke down bile and spit, watch the blood trickle down Jackson's side from where the tube went in, and watch blood flow through the tube into the bag, then that's what I'm gonna do. I just hope I don't embarrass myself by puking up all over... ah, what the hell. I pissed my pants earlier, right? I think a bit of puke isn't gonna... ohh, shit... swallow it.

"Hey, you okay back there, Mason?"

Shit. He knows, somehow. He can probably smell the fear and guilt even under the stink of my sweat and drying piss. Swallow it. "Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir. How is Dr. Jackson?" The good little soldier. But, we both know better.

He doesn't answer, and that's okay because we also both know I'm aware of just as much as him. Dr. Fraiser is talking to Jackson. I can hear her tell him he's going to be okay. He's already breathing a lot easier... except for that short bit just a minute ago when he seemed to get all excited for some reason. He's still trying to talk, to tell them something, but his voice doesn't seem to be cooperating with him. Hard to make out what he's saying and the Doc isn't even trying to understand anyway. She's just going on about how they're going to get rid of that hunk of glass now. About how that'll seem like child's play in comparison to what he just went through... just a little incision here and there, remove the glass, flush it out, stuff in some packing, bandage it up. Quick and easy. Child's play. Right, sure, tell us another one. She's going to cut him, for Christ's sake.

The bile is backing up again. Too much has gone on for me to know what to do with all the images and thoughts and feelings. It's all gonna come spewing out any time now. Again. I think I need a distraction. There, over there. Captain Carter reported – just after the Doc got the tube in and that flow of blood appeared – they're working on three different ways of trying to get through the C2 blast door... cutting a hole right through it, taking slabs of concrete off from where the rails are in the walls to try to straighten the rails enough to get it open a bit, and trying the motor every so often just in case some miracle occurs. I can hear the whine of the hydraulics right now as they give it another try, for about the tenth time. It shimmies just a bit, but stays closed. Damn door.

The door. Door? Is that what...? I listen, but the only thing coming from Jackson now is a soft, drawn-out whimper. And a groan. And another one. Shit. I twist my head and shoulders around to see what's going on and instantly regret it, on two counts. First, O'Neill rumbles for the goddamn fucking moron – yeah, that's me – to sit still and not to jar them, and second, the Doc's bloody gloved hand is hovering above our shoulders, about an inch from my nose. Holding the just-used scalpel. Puke-city time again. It's getting almost impossible to swallow it back down now. She drops the scalpel on the floor, out of my line of sight, but the Gods aren't finished with me yet because there's a low cry and a lurch come from Jackson. Both she and O'Neill mutter at him to stay still, and whoa, there's the glass itself also appearing just an inch or so from my nose. Man oh man, it's a sharp, jagged, vicious looking hunk-'o-junk.

It ends up on the floor too, and a small shard breaks off and skitters over next to my thigh. Sharp. Tinted a bit, I think? Interesting. Couldn't tell from looking through the window up there that there might be a bit of a tint to the glass, but here's a piece of it right here and it sure looks like a bit of faintly bluish coloured coating that's sticking off the edge where... oh shit, what am I thinking? Who fucking cares.

The glass. The door. Door. Jackson. I'm pretty sure he said something about the door, or wanted to, anyway. He's not trying to talk now. He's kinda, what, softly crying or something, as the medic is working on him. Packing the incision, I think? Still, there was something he was trying awfully hard to say before, and if it has anything to do with the door then we need to know what it is. He's the only one of us who picked up on the vents and if there's something else we're missing, it'd be nice to know about it in time to prevent it coming up and biting us on the ass. Not that that's my job. Not that I'd be competent to do it even if it were.

It's only because I can't see O'Neill and I know he can't see me that I can gather the courage to actually talk to him. "S-S-Sir? Uhm, Colonel, I..." Okay, well, it'd be nice if I could keep the tremble out of my voice. Try again. "Colonel O'Neill? About... about what Dr. Jackson was saying before?"

I feel him turn his head a bit and it surprises me that his answer is so soft. He's almost whispering. I can hear the concern in his voice and I know it sure as hell isn't there on my account. I feel about an inch tall and just as important. "What about it, Mason? And keep it down. He's just starting to settle."

That makes me aware of just how quiet – relatively speaking – it is in here. The C2 door motor has gone silent, Dr. Fraiser is speaking softly to the medic, and except for some indistinguishable low conversation and the occasional moan and groan from someone in the group over by the C1 door, there's not much noise of any kind now. I can't even hear Carter talking into the radio anymore. I can't turn my head enough to see anything but Fraiser, the medic, the collection bag on the floor right there, and O'Neill's shoulder behind me. I figure Makepeace has got to still be there holding the IV bags, but I don't know where Carter or Teal'c are.

I have to see. I have to get up. I have to hear and see and know what's going on. I don't know why, but I just have to. I'm going to burst if I don't. I almost bounce right on up but remember Jackson in the nick of time. That would have been just stellar, Eddie. Really would have sealed the deal to leave my post and have O'Neill and Jackson falling backward onto the floor. Goddamned fucking moron, is right. But I have to get up and I have to see... to see... everything. I don't have a freaking clue why but I need to do it anyway.

"Sir? I... I need to move away from you, Sir." No, wait, that's not how I'm supposed to do it, damn it. Not like a good little soldier ought to be, at all. "Permission to move away, Sir?" That's better. Shit. Hurry up. Gotta get up... there's something I have to do... something...

There's a noise that sounds almost like a chuckle precede O'Neill's answer, and I'm confused. "Thanks for the warning, Airman. Go right ahead. I've got him."

Okay, fine. Forcing myself to take it slow and easy, I skid forward a few inches and when O'Neill doesn't follow me, I realize that while he found my backrest helpful, he hadn't let himself get dependent upon it. I guess that is the best I will ever be, the most use I'll ever be... helpful, but nothing much more than that. I'm crouching and turning, moving forward, and with an effort I force my eyes past the pile of used medical supplies on the floor beside the Doc. She's listening to Jackson's chest with her stethoscope, a satisfied look on her face. He looks like twice-passed shit, but at least he's laying quietly and breathing without looking like he's trying to swallow a basketball with each breath.

I see O'Neill raise his eyebrows at me and I look away fast. It was better when I knew he couldn't see me. Maybe I should back up some. No. Stay where you are, coward. Captain Carter is right here, sitting on the floor the other side of Jackson, her hand laid loosely overtop of his in his lap. She gives me a small smile, her eyes all soft and accepting-like, and I really have to turn away from that one. Makepeace. Look at Makepeace. Yes, all right. Just what I need. He's standing there with the IV bags and gives me a disdainful sneer. Perfect. I could look at that all day. But I don't get the chance, because there's a commanding presence suddenly at my shoulder, a dark hand on my arm, and a deep voice talking at me.

"What information did you wish provide?"

Huh? Teal'c is crouching beside me – man, can he creep up quietly or what? – and he gives me a single eyebrow. It's not the same as O'Neill's, not nearly as quizzical and, well, expressive... so I can look at it okay. Of course, it'd be much better if he couldn't see me, though. I just wish I could answer his question sensibly... and that I knew what it was that's driving me to want to run around the room in a panic.

"Mason?" It's the captain. "Did you want to tell us something? Is it about Daniel?" She's whispering, and I look over to see that while he's still awake, it doesn't look like he's really with us. His head is tipped back on O'Neill's shoulder, his eyes fluttering open and closed like they're too heavy to keep open but he's not quite willing to give in and let them close yet.

He surprises all of us by speaking. Well, if you can call it speaking. More like, croaking-sighing-slurring. "The door. Jack. Don't... the door."

I knew it. I knew it had something to do with the door. My heart is in my throat and my legs want to take off in seven directions at once, but I still don't know why. Okay... which door? And what's so important? I have to know and suddenly my mouth is doing it's own thing. "Yes, okay, okay, the door... it's about the door. Which door? C1? What do you want us to know about the door?"

O'Neill shoots me a look I can't quite read. It's either barely restrained annoyance, or partially disguised surprise. But he whispers a short form of what I said into Jackson's ear and the slow, slurred response brings brief, gentle, tolerant smiles to O'Neill and Carter's faces.

"No, not... Ceee... one. Agh. Hell. Drugs. Happy... Jack? Can't... seem to... to talk." Jackson grimaces, squirming around weakly and pounding his fist against his thigh as he tries again. "Not safe... place. C2... stop. Here. It's the only.. only way..." He rolls his head around and peers in my general direction. "Where's... big guy... w-with, the gun? There?"

"There are two of us here, Daniel Jackson. However, only one presently carries a weapon." Teal'c gives me a glance that puts me right where I belong on the scale of 'those to be trusted with weapons'. Mind you, he did give me that really cool big long blowy-uppy thingy when I was in C1...

O'Neill gives Teal'c a quick grin and transfers his attention back to Jackson, saying, " Teal'c is just pulling your leg, Danny... actually, you're seeing double. And yeah, just for the record, I'm ecstatic about the talking thing. We can make it two for two here, all you have to do is give it up and go to sleep. Think you can manage that, Dr. Jackson? Even you have got to be ready to let go by now, Daniel."

Jackson tries again, his head shaking out a definite 'no' while the rest of him looks like the answer is just as definite a 'yes'. He's too dragged out and drugged up to be very coherent, though. Something that sounds remotely like a warning against breaching the C2 door is barely out of his mouth before his eyes finally droop closed and his head lolls to one side on O'Neill's shoulder.

Carter reaches over and strokes his cheek, saying a quiet "good night, Daniel", and okay, so they care about him and God knows he's been through a lot... but even so, I'm wondering why they patronize him like that and are so content to let him drop off when he obviously has something he wants to tell them. My legs are just a-thrumming and I'm especially wondering just why he might not want the C2 door to be opened. After all, it means he'd get out of here, into a nice soft bed in the infirmary. It means nobody would be trapped in here anymore... trapped –

Right... we're trapped in the gateroom. With any luck that thing hasn't found the opening to the ventilation system and is still in C1, for however long that luck lasts. And we're trapped right next door, our only safe exit the door they're trying to... to...

Shit! Right! The answer hits me with a force and effect probably comparable to getting hit right in the balls with a damned sledgehammer. I only realize I'm on my feet when I find myself running over toward the C2 door, and it hits me I have no idea where I think I'm going or what I'd do when I got there. I stop on a dime and reverse direction to face where I started out from, to look up and find myself the object of a bunch of surprised and openly skeptical stares. Yeah, they think I'm loony-toons. What else is new and who the hell even cares right now, because we got far more important things to deal with than the question of my sanity and intelligence.

Just like my legs, suddenly I find my voice taking me to places I was never aware I was heading for. "We have to stop them before they break through! Colonel, you made a big mistake. They can't breach C2... we have to stop them, right now!" Listening to myself, I think my jaw dropped even further than O'Neill's just did, but it only takes me a second to realize the truth behind what I just blurted out. That's what Jackson was trying to say, that it's the only way. In a sudden flash it occurs to me maybe that's why Jackson was looking for me, for the big guy with the gun, a minute ago. Maybe he knew I'd understand, that I'd figure it out... no. That's impossible. I'm flattering myself. What a moron.

"Ahh... okay, why would we want to do that?" Captain Carter is openly doubtful and she's looking at me like I'm some real peculiar bug she's just noticed crawling on her boot. But that sure beats the obvious, belligerent anger on O'Neill's face.

"Yeah, Mason? I made a big mistake? How so? And before you open your mouth, you better make sure it's damn good because if you're suggesting I place injured people at further risk without good reason, you're going to find yourself in a hole so deep you won't see the top with a telescope." Oh crap, he's pissed. He's hugging Jackson to his chest and looking pointedly over at the group along the near wall and he's royally pissed with me for even suggesting delaying getting them out of here.

I suddenly find I really don't give a shit what he thinks of me, or if he can see me and I can see him seeing me. Jackson had something really important to get across, but his team... well, maybe there's more than one way to turn your back on someone? I swore I wouldn't turn my back on him again, and I'm not going to. Even if I can't explain the reasons as good as him, it's up to me now to get it across and, damn it, I'm going to even if I have to go up against Colonel O'Neill. Because O'Neill's wrong. He was wrong to give the order to breach the door after he found out about the vent in C1, and he was wrong to shut down Jackson in a self-deceptive act of false kindness... and he's wrong to be pissed with me just because I can see what he can't.

And I am damn well going to make him see it even if it means I end up being ass-kicked down to where the sun never shines. Because we don't have time for this. It may already be way too late.

_________________________

 

32\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

I made a big mistake, did I? Well, I admit I've made a mistake or two today... the latest one that I'd started to think Mason actually might have a working brain cell or two or three after all. As far as mistakes go, well, that one's probably high up on the sucker-mentality continuum.

Shit. Yeah, right, Jack. Who am I trying to kid here?

Even as I'm telling him it had better be damned good, I know I'm doomed. I got it now... and I don't want it. I hug Daniel a bit tighter and eye the group huddled over by the door. All the while my warning to Mason is still coming out of my mouth, my mind is screaming denial of what I've just realized is true. If we are lucky, not only can't I do anything for these people but I'm about to place them in grave danger. If we're lucky.

Mason's face pales at my tone but then as I finish his mouth sets in this straight line and his eyes go all slitty and determined. Ohh, nooo. Nope. No way am I going to let him do this to me. I give in, yes, but I damn well do it of my own accord and not because some excitable prick of an airman thought a split second faster than me and has the balls to call me out in front of my command. Before he can say anything I'm turning my head to Carter and doing it, my chest tightening so much I'm having some trouble breathing. I really don't want to do this. I really don't have any choice.

"Tell them to stop work on the door, Carter. Now." She gives me a questioning look and I snap at her worse than I did at Mason, "Now, Carter. Just do it. Fast. We can't let them put a hole through that door."

She's doing it, and I can see her come to the same understanding I just did as she talks into her comm, her eyes going large and round and her face pinching up in a combination of anxiety and annoyance with herself for not realizing sooner. I'm only too well aware of Daniel stirring against me, of the other injured men Fraiser is over there checking on, of Teal'c and Carter and SG3. Of all the other people on base outside this room. And hell, I don't know if I want us to be lucky or not. All I do know is it's either them outside there, or us in here. And that stinks.

"Teal'c, you're going to have to confirm." Carter gives Teal'c a quick nod, turning back to me as he complies. "So. What now, Sir?"

Daniel shifts slightly and lets out a low grunt. His breathing is better now, but that tube is still draining blood. Not as fast or as steadily as when it was first shoved in, but I don't know how much drainage is okay or is too much, how to tell if it's old blood or fresh stuff... if he's still bleeding into his chest even now, under that pressure dressing. And just look at all the bruising, and the bullet track. It'll rival the base's south connector tunnel in size if it swells up any further. Hell. Carter's looking at me expectantly. Teal'c is calm and patient. He gets it. He's figured it out too and he's also figured out I need a minute here. I need time to acclimate myself to the idea of purposefully giving orders which deny Daniel and the others the medical attention they need. Orders which may well result in more casualties.

Mason's still thrumming nicely, but he seems somewhat pacified. No doubt he's going to come out of this – if he and any of us actually ever do come out of this – thoroughly convinced I'm slower than molasses on a freezing winter's day and just about as thick. Not to mention fervently believing the sun shines out of Daniel's ass and the world needs to stop revolving and wait attentively whenever Daniel opens his mouth to speak. Okay, well... that's fair enough. For now. But, just for now.

Makepeace, well he definitely doesn't get it. Pretty obvious from the expression on his face that not only isn't he able to anticipate what I'm about to come up with, but even though I just spit it out he still doesn't have a clue what Daniel was trying to tell us. He's shooting quick, strained glances from me to the C2 door and back again. Not happy about this; oh no, not happy at all. I'm only too well aware he's a colonel; a marine colonel with his own team at risk here, who has just as much right as I do to question my decisions. I have a headache. Bad headache. Blinding.

I answer Carter, but look at Makepeace. It's him I'm really talking to. "We need to send Siler and a couple of his guys around to the C1 corridor, Carter. On the double. They'll need the same steel mesh as in here, for the vent opening. Tell them to get over to the blast door off the control room and stand by. If we're lucky, that thing hasn't found the vent yet and it's still in there." Carter's passing it on to Davis before I'm even finished speaking.

Makepeace's face goes all still and hard and I know he's catching on now. He grimaces an ugly snarl and lets out a curse, bouncing on his heels in as much visible agitation as I've ever seen him allow himself display, as the implications settle in. "Motherfucker! If we breach the door in here to get these guys out, and can't seal it off right away again..." He trails off, looking over at our one remaining impostor and the snarl goes from simply ugly to positively menacing. He doesn't actually voice anything else aloud, but the words leave his lips all the same and I have to say I wholeheartedly agree... 'motherfucker' is way far too mild.

"We must not delay, O'Neill. We may already be too late." Teal'c gives Daniel a faintly apologetic look – yeah, I'm with you there, big guy – and abruptly turns and heads toward Fraiser and the rest, no doubt to fill them in and get them organised to attempt the Great Escape I can only desperately pray is possible.

Makepeace steps over Daniel's legs and reaches out, snapping his fingers impatiently in Mason's direction. The transfer of the IV bags isn't the smoothest pass and receive I've ever seen made, but at least they don't hit the floor. He goes into 'officious' mode, striding around purposefully, asking – my God he actually asked him nicely – Teal'c to watch the remaining SG8 alien and ordering his men to gather up the goggles and weapons. With arms flying and fingers pointing he maps out an invisible grid in the room, designating individual responsibility for areas of surveillance amongst the four of SG3. Okay. My headache seems to be clearing a bit here.

Carter is frowning at Daniel, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He's more restless now, starting to wake up some. Geez, he slept all of what, fifteen, twenty minutes at the most? I'm about to call Fraiser over – there must be something she can do to put him out for the duration – when I hear her voice, aggressively assertive and growing louder by the second, spilling across to us from where she's been hovering over the others. Her medic, still sitting here monitoring Daniel, goes even more white-faced than our plans already made him. From the looks of him, he's heard that tone from her before and it wasn't a very pleasant experience.

It's not hard to figure out what she's on about. Fraiser is pretty much the penultimate champion of proactive professional integrity... no way is she going to take sitting down anything that might threaten the health and safety of her charges and her ability to do her job. And it sounds like she's pulling out all the stops with Teal'c and Makepeace right now. I can hear and see they've told her what has to be done and a bit of the why, but she's doing more than her level best to make sure they know she thinks our solution is nowhere near good enough.

She'll be over here in just a few seconds. I know it, Carter and even Mason know it, and especially her medic knows it because he's suddenly really busy doing stuff that entails him keeping his head down. Like, doing some weird job on the chest tube, anchoring it carefully up near the top and then squeezing it between the fingers of his other hand and running them down it, compressing and pulling on the tube along its length. He gets to the bottom and takes both hands off it, and there's a sudden small rush of blood show up in the stiff lower clear plastic tubing the one he was messing with is attached to. It scares me when another quick gush shows up right after the first, and I'm only too happy to see Fraiser stomping on over here, her face tight with determination and her eyes flashing.

I must look like I feel – worried shitless – because she speeds up and her expression shifts radically from irritation to concern as she steps over Daniel and crouches beside the medic, snapping at him. "What is it? If there was something wrong you needed to call me. You know that." She's pulling on her stethoscope, staring intently at Daniel.

He looks up at her, surprise making him all but speechless. "What? No... nothing, err, there's... he's fine..." He frowns and looks first at Daniel's face, then his chest, and then the tube and collection bag as if he's afraid maybe he missed something. He catches my expression and suddenly seems to understand. "Oh! No, everything's fine. I was just stripping the tubing." Fraiser is listening to Daniel's chest, and the touch of the cold bell of the stethoscope on his skin provokes a few squirms. The medic is looking right at me. "Really, it's normal for that to happen... it sets up a bit of a vacuum and pulls down any drainage that might be loitering around." He's grinning at me. Fortunately it's a friendly, sincere, good-natured grin. If it were anything else but, I'd have to shoot him for sure.

I have to admit I'm reassured by the explanation, though. Especially as it's obvious Fraiser is content with what she's hearing and seeing. She gives her medic an obligatory disciplinary glare and shoves the stethoscope into her pocket. Daniel is bending one knee, sliding one foot back and forth along the ground. He starts moving his hands around in his lap and his head gets into the act, rolling side-to-side, threatening to bop me one in the chin. I ask Fraiser if there's anything she can do to make sure he's going to fade back again and stay pretty much out of it throughout what's to come, and she gives me a quick shake of her head, no. But it's not so much of a 'no, there's nothing I can give him' as it is a 'no, there's no need, buster' type of thing. She's winding up to give me her argument, and my headache winds up along with her. This is hard enough as it is without having to face opposition.

She gives it a try, of course. "Colonel. We can't do this. If we do get a split second opportunity to drag the others back through there, we both know how chaotic it will be. Daniel can't be moved like that. I can't allow it. It's not safe for him."

Oh, piss. She caught me below the belt with the first blow. Daniel; can't allow; not safe... shit. Big headache. Head. Ache. Bang, bang, bang... I can't. I just can't discuss this with her. She's going to have to figure out how to come to terms with it all by herself. I can't be her means, nor can I change our path. We have no choice. She's a United States Air Force Officer, and if I have to pull rank on her, I will. Her job is to get with the program here.

"Janet, we know. It's not like the colonel has any choice here. If that thing gets out of C1, it'll be almost impossible to find and deal with." Carter reaches out and puts a restraining hand on top of Daniel's, the one that's snaking on over toward where the tube is inserted. He unknowingly lets out a little whimper over being thwarted, and she squeezes her eyes closed for a second. "Daniel will understand. It was what he was trying to tell us all along, Janet. We may have already blown it... we have to do this, we have to know."

I'd tell Carter it's all right, let me handle it, but I don't want to handle it... at least not in any way these ladies would find even remotely acceptable. I want to just snap at Fraiser, tell her to knock it off and get organized and ready to really fly in case we hit it lucky. If we don't get lucky, then she'll have all the time in world to bitch at me while we move everyone out through C1 in a nice orderly fashion. Wow, that's... perverse. If we're lucky, we run a definite risk of becoming dessert-'o-evil-alien-thing-a-la-carte. If we aren't lucky, we'll be able to get everyone out of here.

Daniel tries making another move for the tube with his free hand, and as I capture it in mine it occurs to me that Carter is more right than she knows. Daniel will understand. We did what we thought we had to do to help the injured... but we ended up placing the rest of the base in grave danger. Now, to safeguard the many I have to give an order that may well end up sacrificing both those we tried to save in the first place, and ourselves. Daniel has a kinship with irony. Of all of us, he's probably the one who'd most appreciate this farce for what it is.

"Sam, look, you already have teams putting grills on all the ventilation openings throughout the base. And the system is shut off from the outside. If the alien gets through the one in C2, it will be trapped in the SGC ventilation system. If it has or does go into the vent then everyone is safe, but if you open that door and we find it hasn't... well, it could be a disaster! We need to keep that door closed just in case it's still there, and we need to get these people out through the other one."

Fraiser turns all that confident rational thinking square onto me, talking a mile a minute like, gee, maybe she's worried she might not be allowed to get it all out. Yuh-huh. And of course, knowing human anatomy so well, she's able to find that sweet spot yet again and lets me have it, right where it hurts most. "That chest tube system is mickey-mouse at best, Colonel. One air leak anywhere, and it'll do more harm than good for him. We could suddenly find ourselves facing a life-or-death situation with him. I need him in the infirmary where I can do a proper job of it. We certainly can't start throwing and dragging him around through barely opened doorways in a dead panic. We'd be putting his life in jeopardy."

Head. Ache. Bang. Bang. Bang... big drums. Hey, like those taiko things, the taiko performance Daniel forced me to go see with him. Yeah. It was something else, really impressive. Big strong fat guys hitting big huge drums with big huge sticks. Loud. Wham-whap-whappo-whap, wham.

Carter has one hand pinned and I have the other, so Daniel being Daniel, the guy who just never gives up even when he's in a stupor like this and his brain isn't firing on all cylinders, gets really inventive about that damned tube and starts shimmying his torso and pushing with his legs. It only takes us a second to realize he's twisting around to rub that insertion site against his own personal backrest, and all four of us – me, Carter, Fraiser, and the medic – leap into action. There's more hands on the guy's bare skin than he's probably ever had all at once and it seems to penetrate the thick fog he's in. The Jackson Frown makes a splendid appearance. Intelligible words start forming; single syllabic ones like "no" and "help" and "ouch" quickly giving way to more complex vocalizations such as "goddammit" and "get the hell off me". Yup. That's our Linguist for you.

And here he is. Blinking rapidly and looking around in confusion at all the faces hovering over him. I can't really crane my head enough to get a really good sustained look at his eyes, so it's Carter who recognizes the dawn of comprehension first. She gives him a genuinely happy grin and releases her grip on his hand in favour of giving him a quick squeeze on his forearm. Fraiser takes her hand off the IV insertion site and bends over to get a look at the small dressing on his side... and lets out another one of those curse words I swear I heard her let loose with earlier. This time, I have witnesses.

"Wha...What?" Daniel's voice is ragged, thick with exhaustion, pain, and drugs. I'm not sure if he's asking about the reason for Fraiser's expletive or if it's just a typical Daniel Jackson generic 'what'. Carter tells him, "nothing," and strokes his cheek, which immediately results in at least a three-fold intensification of his frown, clearly visible even from this angle. But he doesn't say anything else. He just rests his head back against my shoulder and lets out a faint sigh.

As for me I really would like to know the what and why of Fraiser's succinct comment. She's casting death-glares at me as she accepts some gloves from the medic and pulls them on, and I know I don't even need to ask the question; it's clear she's more than happy to start in on me without any prompting. "Well, there you go, Colonel. A little bit of jolting around and the sutures anchoring the tube have pulled free." The medic hands her what she needs, mops up the bit of blood leaking out around the tube, and she gives Daniel a gentle poke in the side with her elbow. "Daniel? I have to put in a new suture. Just a bit of a pinch, okay?"

He seems pretty okay with that, giving her a slight nod and closing his eyes. Me? Well, she can poke and stab and suture him until her pinkies fall off, if he doesn't mind then I sure don't... but I do kind of mind that she's somehow making this my fault. It's because she doesn't want us to open that door, and frankly it's offensive she'd use Daniel this way. Time to set it to rest, put this baby to bed, close the barn door.

"Listen, Doc, Carter already told you we have no choice here." She raises her head and glares at me, her mouth opening, but I raise my hand and head her off. "No. The answer is no, Captain Dr. Fraiser. I will tell you this just once. I need you to get your patients ready for as organized an emergency evacuation as possible. If it should prove to be possible, you need to be ready to move fast. You got that?" Ohh, looky there... two lips just fused into one. She is so not happy. But neither am I, so I don't care all that much. Her opinion isn't important here because as much as I hate the risk, we're about to do the only thing we can.

I don't know just how it's all going to turn out, but I do know she's right about one thing; Daniel is a sticky point in the plan. And it's driving me nuts. If that thing is still in there and it gives us the opportunity to get these people through that door and trap it here in the gateroom, the transfer of the medical staff and supplies we made into here is going to seem like slow motion compared to what's going to have to happen this time around. Damn.

I'm only aware of Daniel's head being tipped back and his eyes on my face when Carter catches my eye and gives a nod of her head toward him. Fraiser is going about her business as if she's a practicing iceberg, and I know she's cast me in the role of Titanic in her mind. That'll be the day. But... Daniel. That frown is for me, I can tell, and sure enough he reaches and plucks at my sleeve, using the gesture to ask his question for him.

"Yeah, we got it, Daniel. A little slow off the mark, but we got you now." His eyes flutter closed in gratitude and then open again, eyebrows raising as he waits for the rest of it. I haven't actually said it out loud, in words, yet and I don't want to. But I know he won't let me get away with that, so I do. "Siler's waiting at the control room side of C1 to try to get that vent covered. We're going to open up C1 into here. We're going to invite it in here with us and hope for the best." He nods as if that was something he always knew, and yeah, I guess he did. Doesn't make me feel any better.

Fraiser's done and she gathers the garbage, the wrappers for the gloves and the dressing and all else, and noisily balls them all up. Gives them an extra crush-crumple or two just as I open my mouth to continue. Right back at you, Doc. "We'll try to keep it in here and get everyone out the door into the C1 corridor. Trap it in here. If it is still in there and it comes through, we'll have to move you quick. Daniel... I'm sorry. It's going to hurt."

Grimace of pain. Squish eyes closed. Open again. "N-no. Jack... no." Bat-bat-bat the eyelids. Shift, wince, shift back again.

Uhhh... no? No, what? Something wrong? Daniel, I know it hurts. I'm sorry it's going to hurt even worse... much worse. God, I'm sorry. I look to the Doc, but I'm thinking she's thinking he means something entirely different than I do, because her face lights up with an unattractive 'I told you so' look.

Squirm. Raspy deep breath. "Don't... have to do that."

I'm confused as hell, Carter looks concerned, Mason is shifting from foot to foot as though he has to take a piss – maybe we ought to let him do that, look what happened the last time – and Fraiser... oh, well, Fraiser sits back on her heels and she's looking pretty smug, practically gloating. Uh huh, right. Sure, Jack. Ah, darn it. All right, okay, so she isn't. I'm lying. It's not in her nature. But it is in mine, and I guess I am confused enough to want to be angry and if she'd just gloat for crying out loud, then...

"Jack, don't need to move me... with the rest." His voice is stronger now. Pulls out a small supposed-to-be-a-smile. Put it back in your pocket, Daniel. Looks terrible. "Just get the rest out. Not me."

There, see, it is in my nature. I can feel it on my face and in my chest. I'm gloating. Giving Fraiser a small eyebrow thing and feeling that perverse little tug at the corner of my mouth... the one that always shows up when that dark part of me recognizes an exposed underbelly.

"Daniel? Why? We have to get you out of here. If that thing comes in here..."

"No, Sam. Not... I'm not..." Daniel's hand flaps weakly in his lap, and he lets out a croak we all recognize as a short laugh. "Been there... done that. I'm, I'm used goods. Not in any danger from it."

Fraiser frowns at him. "No, Daniel... I don't know what you mean, but the alien isn't the only reason you need to get out of here. You have to get to the infirmary; you need proper treatment." I realize we haven't told her about what that thing did to him. All she's aware of is the glass and the bullet. She looks me straight in the eye, and challenges me again. "Which said proper treatment, Sir, with all due respect and all certainty, he will get if we go through the other door. Colonel O'Neill, Sir."

Snaaap.

"Only if that thing, Captain Doctor isn't already flitting around your infirmary doing taste-tests like it did to Danny here! Only if it's still the other side of that door and not already waiting on the ceiling in some corridor for some ripe plum like you to walk along and get flash-frozen-fucking-dead before you even have a chance to scream! Damn it, Fraiser!"

And, oh, damn it is right. Got all riled up. Got all hot under the collar because I'm scared and resentful as shit that I have to give the order to do this and she's making me actually goddamned fucking shit hell justify it out-freaking-loud. Really loud. Too loud. Forgot where I was and what I was doing and I just bopped and waved my arms around and jarred the crap out of Daniel... not to mention deafening him as I yelled right into his ear.

Ah crap, look what I did. Sorry, buddy. Hang on... I've got you.

_________________________

 

33\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Okay, maybe I don't want to be a somebody after all.

Things seemed obvious enough to me once I caught on to Jackson. Try to fix the mistake and save the world, if it isn't already too late. We had it trapped in the gateroom here and stupidly let it out, placing the base and maybe even the outside world at risk, so now we have to let in back in. Try to trap it in here again. Yeah, it might already be out there somewhere, able to move a lot faster than baffles can be closed and grids applied, but unless we get word that people are dying like Joe did, there's no way to know for sure. No alternative. A simple matter of, be a real somebody and do the right thing. Easy. Black and white.

Sure. Obvious. Easy... from one side of the fence, like with me and Dr. Fraiser. Black and white... if you aren't the guy – the somebody – responsible for each and every person and thing on both sides of that fence. I was wrong to think and act the way I did. To butt my fat head into O'Neill's face. Yeah, he didn't understand what Dr. Jackson was trying to say and yeah, no way could I let it stay that way, but I was a jerk to think I knew better than him He was missing some information, but so was I. I didn't fully understand what doing the obvious would mean for Jackson and the other guys, and just what a toll it must take on the somebody who's responsible for them to carry out this kind of decision

So from now on I am going to be the very soul of willing and obedient discretion. That'll have to be my way of telling O'Neill I trust him to do the right thing. And I do, now that both sides of the fence have been played out in front of me like this. Looking at the Doc, she knows it too now. She understands. We have to know if that thing has gotten out or not; we have to open the door, and if that means it might come swooping down on all of us, well – She doesn't like it, but she's accepting it.

Jackson is settling down. Pretty clear his chest hurt him really bad when the colonel got all angry and leaned forward like that. The Doc says the bullet cracked his sternum and then skittered on up along his ribs. So it's no wonder he just about lost his eyeballs and his tongue when the colonel shoved forward like that. But he's coming on back down now. The colonel's hanging on to him, still rocking the two of them back and forth a bit.

I know O'Neill thought he saw Jackson killed on the video, and he felt so bad he wanted to kill me with his bare hands. Watching the two of them sitting here, I can't stand the thought of what either of them would feel if one of them does die today as a result of what we're going to do. Because it's on Jackson's advice, and it's the colonel's call. And that's heavy; far too much responsibility for me.

So there's no maybe about it. It's a damn straight certainty – I don't want to be a somebody after all.

There's all kinds of activity going on behind me. They're getting organized in case there's a chance to get everyone out into C1. And in front of me, there's another tense conversation going on. Something about... yeah, about what to do with Dr. Jackson. Colonel O'Neill wants to move him right on over close to the door we're going to open, Dr. Jackson is saying he's better off away from where all the action is – might be – and thinks they should park him in the back corner where he'll have two walls to hold him up. Dr. Fraiser clearly prefers not moving him at all but is agreeing with the colonel. Decision made. Now it's Dr. Jackson who's pissed off and the colonel has this pained look of resignation on his face, kind of like he's thinking, yeah, you can please some of the people some of the time but you can't...

The medic sticks three clamps on that tube and it looks like they're getting ready to move him right now. Three? Never mind. I'm not sure what they have planned, how they're going to do this, but since I'm guardian of the IV bags I guess I better look sharp and stay with them here. And oh, look at that... simple. The medic throws those bags into Jackson's lap, O'Neill gets up into a crouch still supporting Jackson sitting up, his arms under Jackson's and his hands gripping the front of Jackson's belt, and then straightens himself up as much as he can. Captain Carter and the medic bend over and grab the edges of that jacket Jackson is still on top of. O'Neill gives everyone a count. Right, and...

Fraiser's on the lookout for any problems as they go about eighteen inches at a time, pulling and sliding with Jackson looking embarrassed as hell and reluctantly helping by using his feet to push himself back. I feel pretty useless just stepping alongside and hell, I'm a lot stronger than Carter is. Why am I being so useless? They stop to let Jackson settle, and I poke her with the toe of my boot. I waggle the IV bags at her as she looks up at me. It looks like she's going to say no, but I catch a silent sort of little back and forth pass between her and O'Neill and she smiles at me, getting up to trade places.

"Hey. Hi" Jackson's voice is weak and breathy. His face is barely six inches from my own as I'm bending over right next to him getting a good grip on the jacket. "Mason, right? Sooo... uhh, good shooting."

Oh, fuck. Yeah right, thanks Jackson. There's a snort come from O'Neill behind us. I'll just go hide now. Thanks a whole – But then I look right at him. He's got this lopsided attempt at a grin on his face, and I realize it's the guy who got out of his car to shake my hand on my birthday sitting right here next to me, shining right on past all the pain and fear, trying to tell me he knows who I am and... and that it's okay. That what I did to him is okay.

A word from O'Neill and we pull, and he slides. There's a pained grunt from Jackson.

"Thanks, Dr. Jackson. I tried. You know, I 'm certified on six different automatic weapons."

Stop. Regroup. Tighten hand grips on the jacket. O'Neill adjusts his grip on the belt.

"Yeah? Jack won't... won't let me have one. Says I'm, I'd be dangerous to the wrong people. S'right. Even am with a tiny gun."

I'm thinking it's a joke and Jackson's looking like it's supposed to be, but O'Neill lets out an unhappy noise, kinda like he just seriously choked on something. And I swear I heard gasp come from Carter. I look up to see her gazing at Jackson, her head shaking out a silent negative and her eyes full of, what? O'Neill's lips are held together in a tight line and even though his head is tucked up right next to Jackson's, he's not looking at him. I think maybe there's some recent history here but whatever it is, it isn't any of my business.

So I go for ignoring seriousness, keeping to the distracting pitter patter Dr. Jackson needs. "Oh, well, most of the big guns are a pain anyway, Dr. Jackson. You gotta strip them all down and clean them all the time and stuff. Not worth it."

"Daniel. Just... call me, Daniel."

O'Neill does the ready-set and we go again. The bags slip off Jackson's lap and Dr. Fraiser, real loud, says, "Oh shit!" We stop, and as she says it again under her breath while she's fussing with getting the bags to stay where they need to be, O'Neill has this inexplicable shit-eating grin on his face. What a weird group of people.

Okay. We're where we need to be. We settle Jackson in against the wall, a wadded up blanket in the small of his back and the medic at his side to keep an eye on him, and I accept charge of the IVs again as Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter step on over to where Teal'c is glaring at the lone remainder of SG8. If I think these people are weird, well, shit, that is so far past weird that... I turn to Dr. Jackson and see he's looking at the same thing I am. Only he doesn't look confused, like I am.

"Sir? Dr. Jackson? Why is he... uhh, it, doing that? Pressing up against the door like that?"

He glances at me, a sort of reproachful look. "He's not an 'it', Mason. That's still Brody; he's still in there, somewhere." A grimace of pain flashes across his face and his voice is so soft I have to bend forward to hear him. "We still might be able to save him. We have to kill it, Mason. But someone else has to die... it's the only way."

Okay, so he still believes it can be killed like he wanted me to do with him. I almost blurt out to him that hey, it didn't work so the idea can't be right. But it occurs to me he knows all too well it didn't work and if he still thinks that's the only way, then it must be me who's missing something here. I go down on one knee next to him, because I really want to hear it, I really want to believe there's a way to get out of this mess, but neither of us has a chance to say anything.

All but one of the lights abruptly snap out and O'Neill is standing over us, holding that spiffy stick-weapon, telling me to be ready to scoop Jackson and make a run for it on the double if and when he gives the word. What? Like, as in... bodily pick him up? With that tube in there, and his shoulder, and the IVs and all? That's... that's just crazy! I, I can't. I just... can't.

"I will be here to assist in ensuring Daniel Jackson's safety, Airman." Teal'c. He gives me a stolid glance and crouches down next to Dr. Jackson. His face doesn't change that I can see but, I dunno, somehow he seems anything but as unemotional as when he just was looking at me. His voice is soft as he tries to reassure Dr. Jackson... who, by the looks of it, is pretty unhappy about the whole thing. "Should the entity re-enter the room, Airman Mason and I will move you into the corridor, Daniel Jackson. It will be all right." As if on an afterthought, he adds, "There will be additional discomfort."

I feel like bursting out laughing over the obvious understatement. I don't. That would be, oh, rude. Besides, I can still feel the pressure of his hands on me from before. He is one strong sonofabitch and I don't want to stay on this wrong side I seem to have put myself on. O'Neill's gone off and I hear him holler at the Doc to be ready, and to Captain Carter to get the show on the road. All of a sudden I'm too scared shitless to let anything out, never mind a laugh. Can't even goddamn breathe.

I can hear the whine and shriek of warped metal against metal, and see the door sliding open. It shudders to a halt at the same spot it did before... not nearly wide enough for safety if we have to move everybody through there in a hurry. Jackson is saying something, his voice urgent, strained. Something about following it, there's a way we can follow it? I can't quite make out the words and I almost turn my head to look at him, I really do want to look at him, to listen to him, but I can't force my eyes off that door as O'Neill settles the goggles over his face and heads on through that narrow opening, Teal'c's weapon in his hand. See, now, that's a somebody.

In the nothingness, this tense period of no movement or sound from either side of the door except for Jackson's whisper-quiet, desperate-sounding voice, I suddenly realize I don't have any of those goggles. O'Neill didn't give us goggles, and it's too dark in here to track it like I did before. Panic wells up and I just about choke on my own spit as I whip around and grab Teal'c by the arm. "We don't have any goggles! We won't be able to see it!" God! We have to be able to see it, to know where it is and what it's doing... who it's going for...

Teal'c isn't paying any attention to me. He has to listen to me! My grip on his arm tightens and I start shaking it, he has to listen, we need to know...! Aghh. There's an impossible strong band around my neck. Squeezing. Tightening. Can't speak, can't breathe... panic, welling up and spilling over... I have to talk, keep trying to tell him...

"Stop! You must stop." The tension around my neck eases and I realize it's Teal'c. His hand moves from around my neck to the back of my head, pulling me forward. He yanks my head closer to his face and growls at me, "It is time to listen, not to speak. You will listen to Daniel Jackson now."

There's a series of blasts from the corridor... the weapon, O'Neill! Firing... it's still there! God, it's still in there he's firing at it and we have to go help him we have to – I'm yanked down close to Jackson's face and even through my fear I can't help but hear him now. He's mustered all his energy and breath, speaking louder and clearer and I can hear him even over the sound of those blasts and the yelling, yelling now, from the corridor and yelling from in here; Carter and Makepeace yelling at Fraiser, yelling at us, get ready... be ready – I'm not ready, we aren't ready...

"Don't have to actually see it. Know where it is. Follow it, see it through him." What? I look at Jackson. What the hell is this? I know he can see the fear and confusion on my face, because he smiles at me and nods. "S'okay, Mason. It won't be like before. Use Brody. Follow it."

And I know. I remember now. I remember what those SG8 things did before, the way I used them to track it before it killed Joe and holy shit, he's right, we need to be able to track it and I don't need any damned goggles to do that. Better off without them. Wearing those goggles, O'Neill must be firing blind in there what with all the white light in his vision from those blasts.

Teal'c and I both whip out heads around to locate the thing and there he is, standing right near the opening for the door, prevented from going through by the tip of Carter's rifle pushing against his chest. She's got her goggles on and her head swivels constantly from him to the opening, sweeping up and down from floor to ceiling and them quickly back to him. And then back to the door again. Over and over, round and round, back and forth. Like one of those fairground cupie doll heads, always moving.

But she's not the one we need to watch and sure enough, the second I train my eyes back on that SG8 – no, Jackson said there was still one of us somewhere in there; Brody, that's his name – on Brody, he jumps like he's been poked with a cattle prod and peddles backward before Carter can even move. His head snaps up to the top of the door and then quickly, oh so freaking quickly, jerking around to the left of the door. To the inside of the gateroom. Toward us.

Teal'c is hollering like a bull moose for the others to go, to go go go and Carter takes up the slack, yelling through the opening to O'Neill and grabbing and pushing and shoving people through. Excited voices behind me, it's Makepeace's men and, what? What are they...

Brody... he's staring up at the, the... what's that thing doing over there? What's it want? It can't...

"Oh God, no! Shit... it goes both ways! Teal'c, the door, tell them, close the door! Hurry!" Jackson is grabbing at me and Teal'c, doing his best to scream his lungs out, trying desperately to be heard over all the noise and activity. There's blood on his lips.

Teal'c shoves an arm around Jackson's back and hauls, ignoring the cry of pain and denial as he pulls him almost all the way up. "We must get you out first, Daniel! Come! We must go!" I grab for the drainage bags just as they slip off his thighs. Where's the... what did I do with the IV bags? I don't know where – Jackson hoarsely yells right back, telling him no, put him down, there's no time, they have to close the door.

And it all clicks. Slots into place with a jolt. He's right. Oh fucking shit... he's right! Screw the IV bags, screw everything! I'm up and running for Carter, screaming for all I'm worth. "Close the door! The vent! The vent! Brody, he's showing it the vent! Close the door! Seal up the goddamn fucking door now!

"Captain Carter! Do it! Sergeant Davis! You must seal the door, seal the door now!" Thank God... Teal'c's caught on to it too. I can see Carter turn and stare at Teal'c with astonishment as his bellow into his radio fills the entire room. It takes her a split second to process it and she attacks her radio too.

The door. I'm at the door. Got to close the door. Carter's at the door just letting go of the radio switch and yelling to O'Neill. Fraiser's pushing someone through from this side... an arm from the other side helping by pulling. Squish. Squirt. They pop through. The door... gotta close the door – A deep voice, Teal'c, roaring, "Hurry! It comes!"

If I could pull the damn thing shut with my bare hands, I would. Fraiser. In the way. The door starts thrumming, shuddering... moving... slowly... it's too slow – A strange noise behind me, a million gnats buzzing, sizzling, all at once. Weapons fire. Those weird metal things with the phallic tips. The door. Close, goddamn it! Fraiser... still there. Get out of the way! Move, push it, go, go, go... get out of the way, the door we have to close the door! Push, shove, and she's gone. A hand, an arm, then a shoulder from the other side... the door's moving faster now, just a foot or so to go... part of a chest, a leg... grab hold, grab him and pull... yank hard...

Fuck! Stinks! Stinks worse than fresh puke, it's here oh God we failed it's here! Cold, fucking cold just behind and above me, going to go through the door and go through those people and find the vent... pull! Goddamn it where is it where... please still have it, don't have left it... yes! There! It's here, grab it yank hard and take it away... hit something, real hard, never mind, swing it around... got it! Take it, swing it around and let her rip, get that fucker and send it all the way to hell and beyond!

Noise. The blast, a voice screaming in my ear, the shriek of the door closing and God oh thank you God, a thunk as it hits home... but the thing, where is it, where did it go... Brody, find him follow his line of sight and find it... find it... shit! Can't find it! Where is it? Bring my head around, look for it, look...

Ow! Fuck!

_________________________

 

34\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
It's here.

No, not just in here. It's right here, right above me. I think I need this damned tube attached somewhere else because I'm pretty sure I'm about to wet myself. Ahh, Teal'c? Jack? Mason? Anybody? Could really use a hand here.

I was so stupid. I saw Robinson, how he went all off the deep end, and what happened when I told him I was the one they were looking for. I should have known right then he was still in there, somewhere, and I should have realized it went both ways. I figured out the human part of the equation since then, remembering more of the myth, but the rest... I was blind. Should have anticipated Brody. I didn't, and now here we are.

Thank God they got that door closed in time. The zat. They tried to chase it away from the open door using the zat. And the staff, fired at it with Teal'c's staff. Uhh, guys? I could, ahh, I could use the staff weapon right about now –

Funny, doesn't smell really awful like before. Can't smell... oh. Right. Breathing through my mouth. Still too short of breath to, to... guess that's a good thing, because that smell was oh so nauseatingly bad and, hell, no way I want to retch with my chest like this. Teal'c. What was it he said... oh yeah, 'there will additional discomfort'. Snort. Sure there will. Just keep your mouth open, Daniel. Breath through your mouth.

Uh huh. Breathing. Through my mouth. Just breathe.. slow it down, breathe... oh God, I'm scared. I guess I was wrong. Again. It's hardly ignoring me; more like it's maybe trying to decide what to do about me? Lots of shouting going on over there. Jack. Can hear Jack. Okay... call him. He'll come, he'll chase it away... what's it doing? Think it moved... closer... feel the cold now, so cold. Oh! Pain in my chest, like an elephant just sat on my chest, can't... can't breathe... Jack! Help me... please. Shouting. Who? Me, or him... him. Jack is shouting. Can't hear me. What is it up to? Edges, look for the edges. There, got it, follow the edge... whoa, it's, it's thick... easier to see when it's bunched up like this.

Interesting. Shape-changing, like before, but doing the opposite. Wonder if it's possible it's actually altering its state of matter, or something like that, maybe? Sam might know. Sam? Hey, come on over here, you'll wanna see this... Sam? Oh God, Sam, please, please, please hear me come on over here please, oh God please – Stop it! Breathe. Relax, slow down. Breathe, in, out....

Cold. Too cold here. Gotta go, leave, find a warm place. Freezing. Move. Agh! Hurts. Never mind, have to move away, just slide along... ahh, no don't fall, okay okay fall then... arm, legs, push... and again; good, I can do this. I will do this. No! Please. Coming closer, too close, right here... a ripple of iced fog on my shoulder, so very cold it freezes all of me in place, freezes my breath in my lungs and my heart mid-beat. Hurts. I was wrong. Wrong. I was stupid. I am so dead.

Quick movement, compacting even further, bunching up into... what? Compressing, contracting into a thick, tight...? It didn't do this before. Why? Cold, my shoulder, my arm. Down across my chest. Heavy weight, like a boulder, a mountain, pressing down on me. Rock of Gibraltar. What? Yes! Teal'c! Sam! I hear you... yes, Jack, over here... hurry... they'll come now... they'll help. Just have to... stall it... move far enough away... try to...

Can't... trying, but I can't breathe, can't move – Yes, yes I can. Move. Push. Don't look at it. Why is it like that now? What does that mean? It was as all papery thin and strung out before. Thin. Flexible. Paper beats rock. Paper overlays rock, envelops it, layered paper becoming one with stone. So, why this? Squeezing pain. Think. Think past that, ignore it. Oh! Can't! Pain slicing... wait, slicing, yes, compression. Can't change it's actual mass, can it? But.. solidifying? Increasing in density, relationship of mass to volume... changing but staying the same? Sam? Scissors. Metal, matter more densely packed. Scissors beat paper, better for cutting apart, slicing through, killing... GOD I hurt! Used to be paper, now it's scissors. Going to kill me.

No! I don't know how, but I have to do this. To move. Push, escape... rock beats scissors. I'm a rock. Rock of Gibraltar. I can win. Jack will come. Ahh! No! Touching me, tasting... toying with me! Hurts! Oh God, please, I don't know how to do this, how to live. Jack, please help me. I'm no rock, I'm, I'm... scared...

Hot! God! Flaming, searing heat, burning... killing... hot...

_________________________

 

35\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

  
Damn that felt good! Think I dislocated a knuckle, though. Done with all the screaming at him now and have a minute to realize my hand is hurting.

Just what the hell is going on here, anyway? Practically pulled my arm right out of the socket, yanking me through the door like that. Then there's that little matter of grabbing the staff. I think he about knocked my ear right off the side of my head. No, the other ear. Don't know where the goggles went flying off to. Better take it away from him before he kills someone with...

"O'Neill! Over here!"

Teal'c? Where? What?

"Colonel! Mason, this way, hurry! Colonel!"

Panic. That's panic in Carter's voice! Where is she? There, she's over there still keeping with that SG8 ghoul, doing her job, but what...? Pointing at, what? Daniel? Danny! What the hell are you doing, Daniel? Clawing the wall, the floor... kicking, pushing... crawling, desperately trying to go somewhere... crap... he's gonna pull that tube out.

Got to get over there! Not even one full step and there's something grabbing, hauling on my pants leg, stopping me... Mason? Get your freaking hand off me! Don't you get up, asshole, I just put you down and when I put you down you need to stay – Shit, the staff! Don't! Don't aim that there, Daniel's over th... fuck! Give it to me! Let go!

Too late, oh hell, no. Damn it, he fired it, he fired the thing. "No! Daniel, look out!" The arc of the blast is close, too close; my forehead burns with radiated heat from the near miss. Staggers me for a second but there's no time, no time to stop. Got to get over there, he's hit, the fuckhead just shot Daniel with the staff... oh God no, oh no, not like this, not after all this. God, don't let him go out like this...

Wha...? What the hell is that? Oh My God... the firestorm-lightshow of the century. Flashing luminous reds, violet shot through with shafts of blue and yellow... the whole of it pulsing in waves like some giant, disembodied still beating heart. Ugly. Sickening. Expanding and contracting convulsively, waves of colour stabbing, shooting outward, collapsing inward. So noisy it hurts my eyes. Daniel! Where's... oh no, oh God... no, wait... there! There he is! Huddled beneath it, curled on the floor with arms up protecting his head – Hit? Was he...?

Noise. Yes, I can hear the others... Carter, yelling... what? Again? Do it? Do...? Of course! The staff, do it again, shoot it again! That must have been a direct hit and I haven't a freaking clue what's going on and why, but that sure as hell looks like distress to me. And I'm all for anything that causes distress to...

Ah, crap! Mason! Another eyebrow almost lost to the maniac with the long stick. Really have to get that thing away from him before he... before he scores another direct hit? Yes! Yes! Take that, motherfucker! Whoohoo Mason, way to go, boy! The lightshow intensifies and in the very next second the colours combine into a writhing deep purple, waxing and waning as the thing expands and contracts. It's moving... sluggishly, but it is moving now, slipping away from Daniel toward the wall behind him.

Carter and Teal'c holler at Mason to go again. I think this time I'm going to just leave it to Mason and duck, but there's a scrabbling noise and the call to arms changes into a hurried warning. I turn just in time to avoid being beaned in the head again as the staff swings round in a wild arc. Brody. Where the hell did he come from? Wait... agh, ouch... I'm, I gotta... shit! Mason! I'm underfoot here... underbigfoot, size thirteen at least, shit this kid is huge... just let me... oww! Teal'c! Damn! Something heavy whacks me hard in the butt and I'm skidding across the concrete to come to rest right next to Daniel. Daniel? Hey, Danny? Shit, he's all in a ball here, not moving. Damn but it's cold over here. Road rash on my palm, and a pain in my lower back. But I'm out of the way and I can actually see what's going on, now that it's not happening right on top of me.

Mason and Teal'c, wrestling Brody to the ground. Wrestling him to... they're winning... shouldn't they be flash frozen by now? Brody, he – it – looks crazed, the first sign of any human expression I've seen... panic, outrage, desperation. It isn't a pretty sight but it's damned welcome, because it means we're on the right track here. All right! For the first time, I see a light at the end of this godforsaken tunnel. We can do this... we can kill the fucker, I know we can.

Give it enough blasts and we... wait... where is the damned thing now? Where'd it go? Shit... find it, find it... there! Right there above us, flattened out along where the wall meets the ceiling. A lucent violet, only just visible against the grey cement. Pulsing obscenely. The staff. While we can still see it. Got to go get the staff weapon... no! No, no, no! It's faded, moved, moving faster along the ceiling, fading even more... shit! It's recovering. I untangle myself from myself, stretch out, reach for it... got to reach the... what? On my leg, something touching my leg...

"Jack..." So quiet I'm not entirely sure I heard it for real. Daniel?

A whooshing roar and red streaks out, chunks of concrete raining down on top of me and Daniel. Another one, and another. And again. All I can do is cover up. Teal'c won the struggle and is doing what he does best. Have Staff, Will Travel. Padawan, Padawon, where do you... wait, that's not right. Pada... no, it's – Ouch, big piece of the wall, that one. Daniel, lean overtop of Daniel. Protect Daniel. Polygon? Paddywagon? Oh man, I think I'm punchy. The stress must be getting to me here. Another blast. Go, Teal'c, go. Premarin, Polliwog, where do you roam? Polliwog, Padawan, far, far from home...

"P'l... din."

What? I push myself up higher on my hands. I think I'm crushing Daniel, and that strangled sound was his dying breath. No more blasts now. I hazard a glance up and over my shoulder. Mason and Carter are literally sitting on top of that Brody-thing. Teal'c is doing a visual sweep of the ceiling. I hear Makepeace speaking urgently to his men somewhere over... somewhere. Did they lose it? Or... kill it?

"Fast... gun for hire. Paladin."

Huh? Ah, yes, he's still alive. Still thinks he knows everything, too. Settling down onto my hip, I take a good look at him. There's no staff burn, he wasn't hit after all, but all the same I don't much like what I'm seeing. He's laying on his side, face alabaster white, his head resting on his arm. The IVs have pulled out and there's blood streaking his forearm and the floor under it. Have no frigging idea where the damned IV bags are. Probably underneath him. His other hand is clenched against the centre of his chest.

"So, Daniel, when did you get to be a mind reader?"

"Out loud. Ballad of Paladin."

No, no I wasn't singing out loud. Was I? I don't sing. Mind you, why else would he be babbling on about Paladin? The dressing on his shoulder is spotted with fresh blood. The tube is still in place, still tripled clamped, but it's come unattached from the drainage bag and there's blood all over the place where the bag flipped the wrong way up. His breathing is rough, but not so much he can't talk. I reach over and cop a feel, to find his carotid pulse is strong enough under my fingers that the vise around my chest loosens a bit.

"I wasn't singing out loud, Danny."

"Were."

"Wasn't."

He peers up at me, and I swear that just might be a trace of a grin sneaking through the pain. "Were too."

Okay. If this bit of normalcy is what he needs... "I don't sing, Daniel."

There's a sudden frown and with each word on it's own breath, he concedes the battle. "Ah. Right. No, you, don't sing." But of course, not the war. Not Daniel, never the war. "It's still... Paladin. Padawan is, uhm... more, contemporary."

I almost get the forced chuckle out, because he needs it, not because there's anything to laugh about here... but there's a presence and a burst of sound, breathless anxiety is in my ear and then repeated, directed down at Daniel. Carter is here. "Sir! Are you all right? Daniel? Oh, God... Daniel... here, let me see..."

She's brushing the grit from the wall above out of his hair and peeling back on one edge of the pressure dressing of his shoulder. Daniel gives me a look I can't quite interpret – regret? – and closes his eyes, wincing as her hands go to the dressing on his side and onward to wander his chest and shoulders, his upper back, gently pressing and testing, assessing. I'm sitting back on my heels looking around the room for Fraiser, cursing to myself that she needs to get her butt over here, when I realize she can't. Because she freaking isn't here is she? Mason. Mason made sure of that, launched her through into C1 like she was a spitball. Daniel groans and jerks slightly under Carter's exam. Damn.

Mason is still sitting astride Brody. I can see the kid supporting part of his own weight on his legs. Very considerate. Misplaced... but thoughtful. Carter scuttles away to one of the blue boxes by the door, and returns with some tape and gauze. She starts fussing with the chest tube, for some reason. Whatever. Teal'c and Makepeace are in a bit of a huddle, talking quietly to each other as they stare up over the Stargate, and I follow their gaze to see it there, a very faint purplish tinged cloud, thinly spread out along the ceiling. Why? Why can Mason sit on Brody without getting frostbite on the ass? And, why is it like that? Why can we see it?

Ohhh... "Because... we hurt it. It's injured." The whisper is out of my mouth before the thought even makes it all the way across into sensibility. The direct hits must have hurt it, and whatever damage was caused has affected Brody; weakened him, too. Shit! Teal'c... if it's hurt, it's vulnerable. No time like the present; hell, I can't even begin to figure out why they would have stopped... I move to scramble to my feet, but Carter stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Sir... no. The last couple of blasts didn't even come close, Colonel." She obviously heard my comment, and she's looking at me with that earnestly sad, 'I-know-Sir-but-it-won't-work' expression she reserves just for thick-headed colonels who don't quite see the forest for the trees. I give her an eyebrow in acknowledgment, not to mention frustration, and she continues, "It recovered quite quickly, and it's able to evade Teal'c without any problem again. There's no point in continuing to blast the heck out of the gateroom if it isn't going to do us any good, Sir."

"Then why is it... different, Carter?" I gesture at the thing, pausing for a second as it shifts in colour from that pale violet to a translucent blue shot through with flashes of red, and then quickly back to the muted violet again. "Why is it doing that?"

She frowns in concentration, obviously thinking it over, absently stroking Daniel's hair. He's shifted slightly against the wall behind him and his breathing seems to be worsening. Pretty clear he's in pain; his hand hasn't moved from where it's protectively against his chest and I can see the muscles of his jaw jumping as he holds back on us. I remember Fraiser talking about how he's better off sitting up. I don't know if that's the case now the tube is clamped and not draining, but what the hell.

I shift over to sit next against the wall at his head, reaching down, but the hell if I can figure out how to do this without hurting him worse. "Carter. Help me get him up." Both her and Daniel look at me, both of them understanding. Carter makes a small "oh"' noise and moves to slide her arm underneath Daniel. He just gets this scared look on his face. Yeah, I know. It's going to hurt.

I think it's more to distract herself than Daniel, but Carter starts on the hypothesizing as we ease him on up and I slide in behind him against the wall. "Well, you know how we talked about it either not interacting with most of the wavelengths and frequencies we can detect, or us being not sensitive to the portions of the spectrum it does interact with? I know that sounds kind of like saying the same thing two different ways, and I guess it is, but actually it depends on what you ascribe its behaviour to... you see, I think both may be the case here. I think..."

"I think you're babbling, Carter. Get on with it." Daniel bites his lip as I shift him slightly to the left, bringing him right up against me so his face rests in close to the hollow of my left shoulder, trying to get him situated more comfortable. Trying for the impossible. He can barely breathe without gasping right now, but I'm thinking – hoping – that's mostly from all the moving around. It'll settle. God, it had better settle.

"Okay, sorry, Sir." She plunks herself down against the wall to my right, carefully placing the tape and gauze-covered end of the dangling tube in Daniel's lap, and takes his hand in her own. "I can only speculate in exactly which portion of the electromagnetic spectrum that thing might normally, ah, well, function, I guess. We know we can't see it, or at least, we couldn't... which means it functioned outside of the visible spectrum. And from what we saw through the goggles, it didn't emit any infrared. But that doesn't necessarily mean it doesn't, or didn't, interact with the infrared part of the visible spectrum. After it was hit with the staff, we did see a marked change. It emitted a number of different wavelengths, some quite strongly. Including infrared. Colonel Makepeace had the goggles on, Sir, and he says he was almost blinded."

Yeah, I can imagine. I still have the image of all those colours burned into my retinas. She's got this self-satisfied look on her face, the 'you-know-what-this-means' one, and at the sight of it I find myself having to consciously work at trying to relax. The question, Carter, was why it was different now; I don't want nor need a detailed comparative analysis of the colours up its asshole.

"Sir, I suspect it doesn't need nor want the infra-red because it doesn't really seem to be making any concerted effort to collect it... I mean, other than attacking Daniel and the guard, overall it tends to stay as far away as possible from the most prominent heat sources, like us, and it didn't go near the vent until it was directed there as a possible means of escape... and Sir, here's the important part, it has to deal with the heat it absorbs somehow..."

I guess I should have stipulated a fifteen words or less response I'm not going to be able to follow her if she keeps this up, and then I'm going to get even more tired and irritable than I am, and then, well, Bad Things will start spewing from my mouth and...

"Like, cometabolism?"

"Yes! Daniel, yes, similar to that... that's exactly what I was thinking." She looks elated. He looks like he's going to puke.

Me? Well, I didn't even recognize what came groaning-sighing out of him as being purposeful, never mind a meaningful word. Which it still isn't. Come-to...what? Daniel lets himself sink further into me, his face up against my neck. I can't see it but I can feel his frown, and I can feel his breath against my skin as he speaks. Those small puffs of air seem far too faint and weak to support words.

"So. Absorbed infra-red... transformed it, into something else... but now, it's having trouble..." He pauses as a shiver runs through him. "Sam, when it... I, I felt... it was... like it was stealing... oh God." He's starting to shake, not just isolated shivering, but an all around quaking-tremouring, now. "Maybe... some other form of, of, energy, or... I can't describe it. Something that, somehow affects our brains, or something? SG8?"

I know he'll be okay – he's just really hurting, and besides, Fraiser said so – but I can't help wanting to stuff my fist in his mouth and tell him to shut up and go to sleep or something until this is all over with. But I know I can't. I know he can't. One look at Carter, at the way she's looking at him right now, and I know we still need him if we're going to get out of this.

"Yes, maybe, Daniel. It didn't emit infra-red, but it would have to be absorbing it, so it must transform it into something else. An emission we also can't see, but likely yes, some form of energy it can't use for its own needs that has an effect on us. But after a direct hit with the staff, it's not doing as effective a job of it. We're seeing indications of emissions of both heat, with the reds, and also ultraviolet wavelengths. So, the staff hits fed it more heat than it could handle, and it's emitting those wavelengths until it can catch up with itself. Not that I know how that's helpful to us, other than being able to see it." She chews on her lip, looking at him with a frown.

See? Need him. Here it comes. "Listen, Daniel... when you translated the myth, what did it say about how they got rid of the other one?"

The other one? There was more than one? "Carter? What other one?"

It's Daniel who answers me, his voice stronger, shored up by interest and the challenge of sorting through this. "There were two. They killed one. Uhh... I don't think... it wasn't specifically explained..." He stops, and I recall Carter on her comm with Davis earlier. Why the hell is she putting Daniel through this? I'm about to bitch like hell at her, but she's ahead of me.

"We had them bring up your file, Daniel, but it just said something about the people using 'the re-enlightenment' to deal with the aliens?"

I feel his slight nod against my neck. "Yeah. The text referred to the era previous to the coming of the aliens, the... times of enlightenment." His face and hands are cold, the rest of him damp and clammy. "The aliens... took over the King and his Adjutant. Outlawed all cultural and scientific progress."

Ah. "Kind of like the Dark Ages?" There. That's about as much as I can offer to this discussion, I think. And so very profound it was, too. Teal'c. He's here, crouching down next to us. He shoots a questioning look at me, and I almost shrug before I remember that wouldn't be a very good idea.

I can feel Daniel's smile. "Hey, Teal'c. It's okay. I'm... okay." Yeah, sure. Sure you are. That's why you're using my face to keep your head up, right?

"The entity is almost fully recovered. It is very difficult to see it now." Teal'c's expression remains neutral but I can see the question lurking there, and the unspoken advice. If we've come up with any possible solution... and hey folks, if we're going to do anything, we'd better get off our asses and do it soon.

"So, all it said was what's in the file? Did you try to refine it at all, Daniel? To elaborate according to context?" Okay, I know what she's talking about here. We've all seen it, how he can take a few literally translated words that don't seem to mean much at all, and using context and whatever syntax rules he's managed to ferret out, refine and elaborate the meaning of a translation. Always seemed like a hell of a lot of extra work to me just to differentiate between a hole in the ground and a toilet...

"Sam, that is the refinement. That they 'used their recaptured enlightenment'. I'm assuming they recovered, or maybe had hidden, some records, maybe some sort of weapons technology... they, uhm... wait, hard to remember..." He stops for a second, breathing hard. This really isn't such a good idea. But, yeah, I know, we need him.

"Oh, right, yeah. The pair were entrapped in a sealed, something... a building or room of some kind maybe..." A sudden, strong shudder goes right through from him into me, jarring us both and sending Daniel gasping for breath. Damn, this whole thing sucks!

"O'Neill, we have little time until we can no longer see the entity." I can tell Teal'c is upset; he just stated the obvious. His question – what do I want him to do – isn't stated, but it doesn't need to be. I just wish I had an answer. The grid will be on the C1 vent by now, the people out of there, but I don't know if we could scoot it on through. Depends on just how stupid the thing is – and the Brody-thing is – I guess. Whether it's capable of figuring it out or not. Worth a try, though... try to get it back into C1 corridor and trap it there while Siler gets back to work on cutting through the other door to let us out of here. It's not like we'd wear out the staff, trying to usher it back through the C1 door.

There's a new pair of hands waving in my face, bumping against my nose. Hey, it's our good friend Mr. Medic. So, where the hell has he been up until now? He lays both hands on Daniel's face and turns it toward the light of day, out from its hidey-hole in the curve of my neck. He's apologizing – as well he should, dammit – as he takes a good look at him. "Sorry, Sir. I was busy over there with one of the other guys. Got, well, trampled on, over by the door. And then there was all the shooting..." At least he has the good grace to look decently contrite.

Daniel's still caught in the grip of whatever number this one is on the spasm of the day hit list, while the medic checks on the tube and the dressing on his shoulder. He seems really pleased about the plug Carter put in the end of the tube. Goody for him. Now, get your ass moving and give this man something for pain, will you? Hey... hey! Where are you going...?! Oh. I see... he's off getting the jump in a box, bringing the thing over here and fussing with re-attaching wires to the little pasties still on Daniel's chest. I can hear him counting under his breath, one through five, as he connects the proper wires to their electrodes.

"How does the staff weapon work?"

What? Who...? Oh. Mason. Sitting there on top of what-is-it, staring intently at Carter, his voice overly loud and his hands in tight fists on his thighs.

She looks at him in surprise, but I can see she's going to answer him. Fine. I've discounted the kid too many times today as it is. Let's see if he's going anywhere with this. Besides, even if I was inclined to, I'm not sure I care enough to tell her not to bother. I'm too busy working out the logistics of what to do with everyone – again – when we pop the door – again – and try to shift this thing back out of here. Gather at the C1 blast door in case it doesn't take the bait? So we can try to get through into C1 ourselves? Or park well out of the way, to avoid the near-disasters of the last two times we opened that door?

"The staff is powered by a small amount of liquid naquadah mixed with some sort of accelerant we can't identify. It's activated by..."

Oh, brother. Guess Mason should have stipulated that word limit, too.

_________________________

 

36\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
"No! No..." What is she going on about? That's not it, that's not what I need. "No, no, not all that. I mean, how does it kill? What does it do? That's what's important here."

Uh oh. Think I just blew it – again – with them. Raising my voice at her like that. She's giving O'Neill a little look; I don't know for sure what it means but I wouldn't be surprised if she asking permission to belt me one in the chops for interrupting her. He gives her a sharp jerk of his head in return, and I guess that means I'm not going to get my answer.

But... then again... "Okay. Basically, it channels extreme heat in a tightly focused, compressed blast. A direct hit causes severe, penetrating damage. The outside of the wound cauterizes due to the heat, but there's extensive tissue destruction, often combined with massive internal injuries and bleeding."

What, that's it? "Heat? That's all? Just... heat?" I hear myself asking her in a totally disbelieving tone of voice and she's looking offended, but it's too late to do anything about that now. It must be more than that... must be something else... those other things...those phallic-nosed things... it didn't... hell. Now I'm all confused. I thought I might have had an answer, but now... just heat? That's it?

She must see my confusion; she's taking pity on me here. "Well, there's an associated effect from the internal mechanism, a small electrical charge. Enough to give a jolt and cause some local pain. But you wanted to know how it kills, and the electrical charge isn't a significant factor in that compared to the tissue damage from the blast itself. Why?"

Okay, okay... I understand now. "But some electricity comes out along with the rest, right? And those other things? The grey things?"

"As far as we can tell, the internal mechanism of the staff is essentially similar to an electrically detonated explosive charge. The charge generates a compression wave of energy, intense heat, which is channeled down the length of the staff. And yes, the electrical energy accompanies it." She scrunches up her nose, looking thoughtful. "By the grey things, I guess you mean the zats. They operate... using... ohh, whoa."

Her eyes go big and she looks like she's getting why I'm asking, which is a relief because it means I might actually be on to something. I wasn't really sure. "The zats! Yes, yes, that's good, Mason. Right!" She turns to O'Neill. "Sir, the zats fire energy bursts, basically electrical charges like the one in the staff, only much more intense and without the heat. When you're shot with the staff, it's the heat and compressed energy which is responsible for the bulk of the damage, but with the zats, it's disruption of your cells' normal electrical processes that occurs."

He's not getting it. "Yeah? So?" He stares at her and then at me, looking irritated like we interrupted something, or something. Jackson is moving around, looking like he's hurting; he shivers and moans and the colonel winces and looks even more annoyed at me.

Jackson beats her to it. He's plucking at the colonel's sleeve. I have to lean so far forward to hear him I almost fall right off Brody. "Jack! Oh, God... I've been stupid. So stupid. Oh, I'm sorry, I should have... should have known..."

No way; how could he have known any of this? What's he...? Oh man, look at him, he's upset, really upset. My fault. All my fault. Shouldn't have done this; should have talked to her in private. Captain Carter and the colonel are bending over him trying to help, but he's hurting bad now, having trouble breathing and kicking out with one leg. The medic's going for the blue box.

I'm off Brody and almost halfway over there before I remember the guy. I turn to reach out for him, to haul him along with me, and get a handful of Colonel Makepeace. He glares at me, then with a lot more force than is necessary, thumps himself down on top of Brody and waves me off. Okay, so I guess maybe for a marine hard-ass, he must have his moments. I'm over in front of Jackson and Carter and O'Neill just in time to hear him explain himself.

"No, no, Sam. Stupid. The enlightenment – I got too fancy. Thought it was some abstract label." He lets out a short, raw laugh. Not an amused one. "Light It was light. They were pre- industrialized... early technical sciences... until the aliens... self-protective, prohibited technological advance... oh God, it was electricity." The laugh is a sob, followed by another one. "I could have... if I had thought... God, I'm sorry."

Carter puts her hand on his face, drawing his attention to her. "Daniel, they killed the host and the alien inside it? And you think it was with electricity?" She looks at O'Neill as Jackson nods, his eyes squeezed shut. "Sir, there were two. One died with the host, one didn't. In the part of the myth I had Davis read to me, it said the Adjutant didn't die right away. They opened up the room or whatever, the enclosure, and the Adjutant host was fatally injured but still alive. The alien left him and entered the young queen, Sylestria, also somehow infecting her attendants who were there with her. Like what happened to SG8; some sort of control exerted over them."

"So we just need to shoot it full of electricity? That's it? That's all we had to do all along?" I can see Jackson wince at O'Neill's disgusted tone of voice.

"Well, it's not necessarily that simple, Sir. The small amount of electrical energy emitted by the staff, combined with the overload of heat, must have temporarily impaired its metabolism, but we don't know just how much of a charge we'd need to feed it to actually kill it. Or, how we'd do that without risk to ourselves, seeing as it moves so quickly, Sir. We can assume the alien in the Adjutant – our alien – was subjected to the same treatment as the other one but, for some reason we can't be sure of, it survived."

Teal'c is staring at me. "That host was not immediately killed. That is why Daniel Jackson was convinced a host had to die in order to eliminate this creature... why he offered himself to it, and arranged for his own death."

"Mason..." It's Jackson, his arm outstretched toward me. Offering his hand? An apology. "Eddie, I'm sorry. I should... should have known. All my fault. Put you through... made a mistake..." His hand is out here, trembling, starting to fall away as what strength he has to reach out is sucked up by all the hurting. Oh, Christ... he remembers my first name. I'm frozen. Just called me Eddie. I can't take his hand. Can't. He looks at me for a moment, waiting, puzzled, and then O'Neill does it for me. He gathers in that failing hand like it was a newborn babe. Damn it!

The medic is busy at his other arm, snapping a tourniquet on and swabbing overtop a vein. Captain Carter makes eye contact with the colonel and tugs on my arm, and as she reaches out to support Dr. Jackson, I understand she wants me to take the colonel's place. O'Neill is moving out from behind and as I hesitate, I'm prodded in the back by Teal'c. Right, all right. Okay, I'm moving, okay? I'm in behind with only a bit of fuss as Jackson has to lean forward to make more room for me.

The three of them move away to where Makepeace is, and it's just me, Dr. Jackson, and the medic. We sit in silence, the medic watching carefully as the drug starts to work. I can feel it happening, feel Jackson's weight increase against my chest and his breathing slow and settle as the pain eases off some. His voice startles me. "They're going to try the door again."

"What?" I've been saying that a lot today. Maybe I ought to try something a bit more intelligent-sounding. Funny, I used to think, before today, that me and the word intelligent actually kinda belonged in the same sentence. Now, though... "What makes you think that?"

"Jack... predictable. Not going to work, though. That door's had it." His head rolls against my shoulder as he turns his face to look up at mine. "Do me... a favour?"

"Yes, of course. Anything, Dr. Jackson."

"Thanks. Tell him... Jack... when it doesn't open, tell him I said... I told you so."

But... "You're telling me, Sir... not him."

There's a light snort against my chest. "Semantics."

Yeah, all right. Sure. I whisper my okay as I feel him relax even further under the drug. We're both sitting quietly and I'm watching the unheard conversation across the way. They've had the sense to move away from Brody before going at it; one of Makepeace's men now has the honour of sitting pretty.

It's not long before Carter comes over, quietly sitting next to me and taking a good look at Jackson. He's been really still, his breathing a bit fast but nice and even, and the medic moved away a few minutes ago so I guess he must be asleep. She gives a satisfied nod and drifts off to rejoin the others by the door.

_________________________

 

37\. Colonel Jack O'Neill

Damn it all to hell. We had it, we had the thing and we let it go. It was right there, injured, moving slow enough that we could have easily turned the zats onto it, and we blew it. A little inner voice coming from the darker depths, a persistent nagging I'm trying really hard to ignore, is telling me it's not just us that blew it, but that Daniel blew it., months ago. Ah, crap. Lighten up. I've seen him work, seen how good he is. Of all people, I ought to know just how damned hard it can be to tell a hole in the ground from a toilet.  
  
"So. What are we going to do?" Makepeace scratches his head, shifting his weapon. He's looking totally confused.

"We don't know just how much power we need to kill it outright, Sir... or if it even can be killed outside a host. Daniel might still be right." Oh shit, Carter. I don't want to hear that! She ignores my warning look and plows on, though. "For all we know, Colonel, it may not be sufficiently conductive on its own for us to kill it that way. It's possible the one that died was killed only because it was so intimately joined with the host body, which did conduct electricity."

"Captain Carter, you have already hypothesized the presence of the electrical charge generated by the staff weapon affected it. The display in response to being hit by the blast would seem to indicate some degree of conduction, would it not?"

Carter's biting at her lip, looking worried. "I don't really know, Teal'c. We can't assume anything. That display of light may indicate something entirely different from conduction. Basically, light is photons and electricity is electrons, so..."

Oh no, no way are we going to get into this. I need a bottom line here. "Carter, I don't want to hear it. I don't care. All I want to know, in a maximum of fifteen words, is if it's worth the risk and effort to try to electrocute that thing and how you suggest we do it. Outside a host body."

She's not happy. I can understand that; I'm asking a lot here. "Sir... I, I really don't..." She straightens up suddenly, and blinks. "Sir, if we could get Siler to lay open cable in C1, and run some metal grids on the walls and ceiling..." Good! Yes, that's my Carter. More than fifteen words, but I can let that go. She speeds up as the idea takes on substance. "They'd need to route power – a lot of power – through to the outlets in C1, and attach the cabling there. With luck, those circuits are beefy enough to handle a good sized load. Sir... this could work."

Okay, good. We turn C1 into one big huge bug-zapper, and shoo it on in there. Sounds like a plan. A plan which we get going on right away as Carter gets on the comm and explains it all to Davis and Siler. Teal'c and I busy ourselves with making sure everyone is safely away from the door, because we're going to be blasting and zatting at that thing to herd it in there and I don't want any accidents. Carter reports they're on it; it'll take about twenty minutes to get the corridor prepped.

Makepeace wanders on over from having briefed his men, and amazingly enough says something quite insightful. I guess all this close quarters with me is rubbing off on him. "So.. the juice flows on our word only, once it's in there, right? So if it knows something is up and won't go through the door, then we can, right? So no matter what, this is it, we get out."

So, right. I look over to where I left Mason with Daniel. Looks like Danny's asleep. With any luck, the next time he opens his eyes it'll be to see the infirmary walls and ceiling, not these.

_________________________

 

38\. SrA Eddie Mason

I pass the time by trying to lip read what they're talking about, watching Brody laying real still under another guy's ass, and speculating on just how much of the real guy might still be in there. Dr. Jackson – no, he told me before to call him Daniel, didn't he – Daniel said he was still there, was still Brody the man, not used-to-be-Brody, the man-killer. Part of me hopes so, and the other part hopes for Brody's sake that he's well and truly gone. Because if he is still in there, well... shit.

I look up, trying to find it. Takes me some time, but there it is. It's still a faint purplish colour, barely visible, hovering just up over the top arc of the Stargate. The Stargate. What an amazing thing that is. And a scary thing; I mean, look what happened here today. When I was up top guarding the surface gate I used to wonder about the lockdowns, the no-one in and the totally baffling no-one out thing. But now I know about that out thing. I know that the twenty-eight stories of underground fortress and the people working down here don't just guard this project from the eyes of the world, but they also guard the world from this project. One hell of a huge lump of peanuts-shit-out-of-an-elephant's-ass big job, being guardian of this gate.

I spend some time watching the monitor, where Daniel's heartbeat is a reassuringly regular series of green hills and valleys. Little foothill, up a bit tall cliff and just as quickly back all the way down into a low valley, then up and over a small mound. A short walk along the garden path, and we do it all over again. One hundred ten times per minute... no, one hundred fourteen... wait, it's at one-twenty-two... one- one-six, one-oh-five, down to ninety-eight, back up to one hundred ten, eight, sixteen, twenty one, sixteen, sixteen...

The medic comes over to check on Daniel, and just before he leaves, I jerk my head in the direction of the whole unit. "That thing... those paddles? They for resuscitation, right? They pack much of a punch, do they?"

He looks at me strange, but I put on my most innocent I-am-a-moron dude, idiotic smile and he answers me. "Yeah. Enough to kill someone as much as save them. So... don't touch it, right?"

I give him a sloppy salute and a wider shit-eating moronic grin and he wanders off back to his resting place about eight feet away, glancing back at me as if he doesn't trust me not to reach over and start fiddling around. Well, relax, buddy. I may not be the brightest thing to walk the earth, but no way I'm going to do anything might hurt Dr. Ja... Daniel.

Carter's back. Daniel is still asleep... at least, he hasn't moved, anyway. She confirms it by whispering to me, glancing at him every few words to be sure she isn't disturbing him. "Mason, we're going to try the C1 door. We've set up a trap for it and we're going to try to get it to head into there. No need for anyone to move or get ready for anything... Colonel O'Neill's decided not to play that game this time around. If it goes through, we'll close up the door and trap it in there. If not, we'll just go at it slowly, try to get people out a few at a time."

Makes sense. She tells me to stick with Jackson – shit, Daniel – and if they have to start firing at the thing at all, to do my best to protect him. And she leaves me one of those fold-out grey zat-things, showing me where the little activation switch is and how to fire it. Okay. Protect him. Damn right. I can do that. Be careful.. one shot disables; very painful. Yes Ma-am, I'll be careful... two shots what? Kill? Uhhh... okay. I'll be really careful. Three? What does she mean, just don't fire at the same thing three times? Why not? Hey... wait... come back...

Before she's two strides away, the door is screeching and wailing and shivering and shaking. They didn't remember that would happen, obviously. All her fine and careful whispering's gone to waste as the noise brings Daniel up as sure as pressing on that little switch makes the top half of the zat pop to attention quick as a bunny-like. His head is up and he's peering around, blinking like a son-of-a-gun.

The door opens a foot or so and binds there. I can hear the motor working, but hell, that door is stuck but good. O'Neill is having a fit over there, clearly swearing under his breath as he jabs his fist through the air, shadow-boxing with whatever God or whatever else it is won't cooperate with him. The rest of them look worried as hell and Carter keeps glancing over here, her face all pinched up so bad she looks more like my Grammy Nancy on one of her bad days than she does the good-looking lady the captain really is. Teal'c is talking into his radio, and O'Neill is swiveling his head back and forth, glowering at the door and at the alien thing in turn as he shoves his fist through the air again in frustration.

Strangely enough, I'm feeling real calm about the whole thing. Hell, I can imagine why they're so worked up. I don't know exactly what kind of a trap they've laid in there, but you can bet your ass it's electrical and it's not something that's mutually compatible with the presence of both humans and killer aliens. So, if it won't go in there on its own, and we go in there and it decides to join us, it's a stalemate. Bottom line, trap or no trap, with that door stuck partly open unless it falls for it and dies, there's no way we can get out through either C1 or C2. Thing is, even though I know our situation just took yet another turn for the worse, I can't seem to get my panties in a knot over it. Daniel's bare skin is cool and clammy, but his weight against me is somehow reassuring, his drugged relaxation somehow contagious.

I almost laugh as I hear him softly slur it out. "See? I told him so."

I speak quietly into his ear, "No, it was me you told."

It comes out of him on a faint breath and even being as soft as it is, comes across full of good humour. "Semantics." And I do laugh.

He moves his head slightly and whispers something else. Another offering, a gift. "Mason... Eddie, I'm going to be fine. You know that, right? You haven't killed me."

Yeah. Yes, I know. I'm not sure exactly when it really sank in, just a second ago when he just said that, or fifteen minutes ago as he slept when I forced myself to put my hand right onto his chest and felt the unexpected strength of his heartbeat and the in and out of his breathing. Or it could have been five minutes after that, when I looked up to see the medic looking at me all embarrassed-like and offering me a handful of kleenex.

I look up to the partly open door and the serious faces of the others over there, as they realize there's no way out as long as that damned fucking thing is alive... and that the longer we're trapped in here, the less chance their friend really will live through this. Because for all his reassurances, I know Daniel won't stay in this condition forever. He's all right, relatively speaking, for now... but he's still got broken ribs and a broken sternum, and a hole in his shoulder that goes straight on through to the inside and another hole in his chest... a bullet hole I put there, right dead centre.

Doesn't really matter just when, really, that I realized it... fifteen, ten, or just two minutes ago. The important thing is that he's right, he will be okay. He'll be okay because despite there being no way out of here and that he's got those two holes in him and he's lost all that blood and all, I owe him and I'm damned well going to pay him back. It's amazing, really, how good it feels to think that. To know that.

Daniel is pretty much gone back to sleep already. I remember I heard O'Neill and him before, bantering back and forth. Padawan, Premarin... I try real hard to hold back the snort of laughter, but it comes out with a small jerking motion as a rough choking sound. Daniel starts a bit and turns his head, but I'm quick to reassure him it's nothing. I whisper into his ear that it's okay, everything is okay because I'm guarding the gate, that I'll fix everything, I promise, go back to sleep. He's real drowsy, and fades back away without even so much as a sigh.

The medic is looking over at us and I call out softly to him. He comes over, and I tell him I really have to go find a corner and empty my bladder. The look on his face is priceless – I guess he must have heard what happened the last time I had to take a piss; marines are notorious gossips – and he's worming in to take my place behind Daniel without even bothering to say anything to me. No problem. I leave the zat whatever thing – oh, what the fuck, just say it like you see it, the grey penis – in Daniel's lap as I leave.

I do go into the far corner, because the last thing I want to have happen to me again is to wet myself... not under any circumstances. I sing the Ballad of Paladin, the Have Gun, Will Travel dude, to myself as I ensure my future presentability. The words, "Have gun will travel, reads the card of a man; A knight without armour, in a savage land" echo through my head repeatedly. But I'm not sure if it's me my mind is describing with that, or Jackso – Shit! it's Daniel, moron.

And when I'm done, I head for Brody. Because Brody and me, we're going to have a bit of a chat, we are. Oh, yeah. We are.

_________________________

 

39\. Dr. Daniel Jackson

  
What? What's going on? Did I... ouch! Ohh, oh God that hurts. No, wait, don't push on my...

What? What happened to Mason? I'm sure it was Mason here with me. Yeah, it was. The door... look over to the door and yes, see, there it is, partly open. Stuck part way open. See, it wasn't a dream. Mason was here. But... now someone else is here. Jack? No.

"Hey, Dr. Jackson... take it easy. Just shifting a bit here. Everything is okay."

Did I say it wasn't? Of course everything is okay. I have more holes in me than Swiss cheese, my chest feels like it's caved right in, we can't leave here and I really do have to go to the bathroom... but everything is okay. I'm okay. Alive, and me. A little on the nutso side right now, I think, because I'm suddenly finding it very amusing that I can feel the buttons on his shirt lining up almost exactly with my spine and I'm pretty sure I'm going to actually start giggling like a schoolgirl any second... but, maybe not, because that would hurt...

"Daniel? Daniel, what's wrong? Daniel...?" Hey, Sam! Hi! Wrong? There's nothing wrong, Sam. Nothing, except you're just a big blur and there's more than one of you. Not two, though. Not quite two. At least that's something. Where's Mason? Nothing wrong with me, but I think... not sure, but I think there's something wrong there... something...

"I think he's kind of out of it." Oh, c'mon Sam, that's mean. I'm right here. I have no idea who she's talking to. The guy behind me, I guess. Whatever. No, I mean, whoever. Or, whatever.

"Where did Mason go? Oh, wait, okay I see... oh! Oh, okay." She sounds embarrassed. Why? What's he doing? Streaking? "Listen, in a minute there's going to be some shooting. Just... just stay here and hang onto Dr. Jackson, okay? One of us will park right nearby and keep an eye on you."

I feel whoever's behind me nodding and there's also something else I feel, a sensation of weight leaving my lap which reminds me how badly I need to pee. Okay. Me, too, I can do that. Stay here, I mean, stay here and hang onto myself. Not pee. Or nod. God, I sure wish I could pee and oh, well yeah, see, yeah, I can nod, at least. I think Nothing really seems to want to work very well right now. And of course, my brain is right there at the top of that list. And my eyes. I scrunch my eyes open and closed a few times, and finally things come into slightly better focus.

Sam. Standing right nearby, waving something around in her hand... ah, a zat. I can hear her now. She's not happy, standing in front of... Mason? Yeah, Mason. Waving the zat back toward me, and jabbing a finger at him. Irritated with him? Over me? Oh, brother...

What? Teal'c? What's he... oh. The door. Teal'c is moving on up the ramp, staff at the ready, looking back over his shoulder toward the door, and it's pretty obvious they've done something in C1 corridor. They're going to try to get it into C1. I look back to Sam just in time to see her shove the zat into Mason's hand and push him over toward me and Mr. Mystery Guest. Okay, she's headed over to where Teal'c is, and where'd that come from? She's got another zat. They're going to get started. Wish I could find the energy to raise my hands to cover my ears... I think it's about to get a bit noisy in here.

And there they go. A blast from the staff, up at the ceiling over the Stargate. And another. I don't understand, they can't trap it in there with the door stuck open... never mind. I don't need to know everything. I know enough as it is.

I know it's not going to work.

Mason, where is Mason? Have to talk to him... tell him. He'll understand, he'll find Jack and tell him. Tell him it can't possibly work, because...

Or, maybe it can? Maybe their plan, whatever the hell it is, is about to get a bit of help? Because amid the blasts and sizzles of the zat – and yelling; I can hear Jack yelling and he sounds really pissed off – there's Mason, crouched down by Brody. Talking to Brody.

_________________________

 

40\. SrA Eddie Mason

  
Nope, he's not buying it. Just as I thought. So much for Plan B. No way is that thing going to go into C1. It was a nice try, but far too transparent a trap; even a flea would know not to give up the dog in the hand for that one in the bush.

I can barely hear myself talking for all the noise, the blasts and zats and the colonel and Carter both screaming at me to get the hell back to where I'm supposed to be. I risk a quick glance up and see just why they're sounding so pissed. That thing is on the move, but not in the direction they wanted it to go. It's sliding back and forth along the ceiling evading their potshots, but altogether, it's making slow, solid progress toward this side of the room. Teal'c or Carter must have winged it – either that or all the excitement is just too much for it – because it's deepened to a nicely visible, almost pleasing hue of pale violet with red tracers dancing through it.

I'm wondering why it doesn't just decide where it wants to go and zip on over there, but then I look back down at Brody crouched next to me here, and I think I understand why it seems to be vacillating like that. And I know my original Plan A, the one I put aside to try to give their doomed attempt a chance, is going to work just fine. Because he's listening – it's listening – to me, wavering as I carefully drop the hints, waiting for me to finish so it can decide if I'm on the up and up. O'Neill really wants me to go back to Daniel. Well, fine. That's all in the plan, but he's going to have to hold his water for just another couple of seconds here... I'm not done here quite yet. And besides, he's the one who has to do what I say this time around. Because this is damned well going to work. I promised.

Just about done here. I holler at him to go over to Jackson himself, making it as insubordinate as I possibly can because I want that man to be mad enough to really move when I do and be there, be where and just when I need him to be... but I didn't need to bother, because that thing has the gist of it now, and it's on the move GodDamnIt Shit! it's on the move before I'm ready and it's headed straight for where Jackson is, and the colonel sees it and is on the way over there too. Doing just what I told the thing he'd do. But I'm not ready!

I'm off like a shot and my momentum carries me right on past my target. Fuck! Cold! It's here! And so is the colonel, the leader, the one who it thinks it needs to be in possession of in order to ensure its own survival. The one it thinks has the power to direct the course of a civilization away from the technology that can kill it. Because, of course, naturally, Hammond is dead. Right? Sure he is, Brody. Would I lie to you? Hammond died when Porter did. Hit on the head. Such a crying shame. We're all a bunch of fucking idiots. Brody was the key, that thing's warped awareness and limited, superficial knowledge through a resisting Brody the tool we were too stupid to use properly. Brody was always the key.

Back, go back, get back to the goddamned box and flip that damned switch. The others see what's happening and are on the way now, thank God. O'Neill crouches next to Jackson – damn, I am going to get this right; it's Daniel – and then rears up to stand protectively over him just like I thought he would, just like I said he would, thinking the threat is to his friend... not knowing, not expecting... and fuck! He doesn't have a zat! I thought he'd have one, but he doesn't. I have one, Carter has one, and he just has a useless Beretta... shit, shit! He's fucking defenseless there. That wasn't in the plan!

"Carter! Teal'c! Shoot it! Shoot at it!" It's coming down fast now, too fast, and I can tell they're all worried about hitting the colonel if they fire. But they have to, it's the only way! I flick the switch with one hand and raise the zat in the other, screaming at them, "Do it! Fire at the fucking thing! Do it!"

Teal'c reacts. The blast sears by just over my head, missing the thing but coming in just under it to O'Neill's left, probably singing his hair, and it's enough to drive the thing up slightly. I'm firing the zat, over and over again, but trying to avoid hitting O'Neill means I'm too high and it dives down again. Just as I realize I'm too late and the others won't fire either because of O'Neill, he screams, dropping his weapon and jerking around as it makes contact. Daniel is screaming too... I hear him, screaming at me... what? At me? To... to...? Yes... oh God, no. Please, don't ask me to do that again. I can't go through that again.

"Mason! Do it! Fire! Do it, do it!" Daniel is screaming as best he can, ordering me... the colonel is screaming in pain, Carter is screaming in panic... Teal'c fires over top of the thing but that's just plain stupid, plain fucking the opposite of what we need and that stupid goddamned shit piece of equipment is still not ready. Daniel. His voice rising in a shrill cry, a last ditch, weakening, desperate yell for my attention... "Mason! It's all right! Just once, that's all... once!"

But I can't. Oh God send me right to hell because I have fucked this up royally and I can't shoot him. It wasn't supposed to go quite like this. What if my finger slips and... twice, kills... I can't! Oh please, please don't make me...

There's a sizzle and blue tracers spit past me to strike him and that thing and, yes, damn, thank you Carter! She understood and did it for me, and that thing is jolted and rising up and away, blue snakes sizzling all over it like chaos brought to life. The threads from the zat shoot through it and branch and divide and branch off again, moving so fast I can hardly see them and now I know for sure it'll work... because yes, the thing conducts like a shit-damn! O'Neill... oh, fuck yes, it works all too well, O'Neill, he's all covered in blue threads too and he's falling, falling... No, he'll be okay! He's okay... she said, one shot is okay oh God please let him be – Look away, look up, Eddie, you fucking idiot coward, look up at what you need to see, not what you don't.

Blue arcs and bright red bolts are hitting the thing dead centre now as Teal'c and Carter take advantage of O'Neill not being part of the target anymore. It's pulsing, growing and shrinking and fluttering all at once and it's ugly and creepy as hell but it's not dying and it's still moving, trying to get away. That's right, you fucker, move... move this way... right down here... I promised I'd take care of this. Take care of you. Brody's convulsing over there, frothing at the mouth and screaming. But he's still staring up at it as best he can and I just know, I can feel it... it's almost at it's limit. But it needs some more, we have to give it more.

I throw the zat in Teal'c's general direction, hoping he'll figure out what I need. I turn and yell at the top of my lungs toward Brody, taunting him, telling it I ragged on it, that it's so fucking stupid it couldn't find a leader in a parade, it doesn't know what real power is and never will, that it's not a somebody... never a somebody...

Here it comes. It knows there's no leader on the menu today... just toast. Alien toast. It's angry. Vengeful. Good. Fucking-A-1 good. I spare one quick look over my shoulder at Daniel, and that's almost my undoing because obviously he knows and he's reaching out to me with that arm, that hand, again and I really want to reach back and take it... accept his hand, clasp it in mine and shake it...

Somehow he knew it was my twenty-first birthday and he got out of the car and, and he shook my hand.

It's ready. The light is on and the display reads '400' and it's ready. All I have to do is... reach down...

I wanted to be a General someday.

It's ready, that creature is right here cold as ice in front of me, blazing in a show of lights and colours the like of which nobody's never seen before as it arrogantly takes all the zat blasts from Carter and yes, from Teal'c too now, and spits its defiance out in yellows and blues and reds of hate and malice...

I wanted to be somebody. Somebody important.

Cold, even the plastic handles on the paddles feels cold. Daniel? Calling my name. It's okay, Doc, I know what I'm doing. I'm fulfilling a promise.

I don't hear anything anymore, don't see anything but the lights and colours and the cold grey metal as I raise them up and apart, and the button as I put my thumb firmly overtop of it. I'm fulfilling a promise, and it feels good.

And then it feels cold, impossibly cold and evil as I thrust my arms right up close to it and I can't feel my thumb on the button, all I can feel is the freezing pain and I can see tendrils of blue from the zats arcing through it, coming close, so close to my hands. Carter... she said never shoot the same thing three times? Okay. Whatever. Obviously doesn't apply to fucking evil killer aliens.

I know I'm going to have to time it just right, just so, if I'm going to make the final difference here. I turn my head one last time, to see, to look at him, to be sure he knows I'm okay with this and his eyes are round and red and wet.

His arm is still there, reaching out. Thanks for shaking my hand, Doc...

I flex the muscles in my forearm, pressing the button just as I thrust my arms into that thing. Sayonara, fuckhead.

 

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